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(From  the  "Edinburgh  Daily  Review") 
THE  REV.   JOHN  KER'S  SERMONS. 


This  volume  will  be  hailed  by  very  many  who  were  wont,  either 
regularly  or  occasionally,  to  listen  to  the  eloquent  words  of  the  beloved 
preacher  with  admiration  and  delight,  and  who  have  regarded  him 
with  affectionate  sympathy  in  those  past  years  of  his  affliction  during 
which  his  manly,  persuasive  voice  in  the  pulpit  has  been  seldom 
heard.  Many  more,  we  believe,  will  now  cordially  welcome  this 
offering  of  his  ministry  for  the  universal  Church,  and  rejoice,  through 
means  of  it,  to  become  acquainted  with  the  noble  utterances  of  one  of 
the  purest  and  most  gifted  minds  among  the  religious  teachers  of  the 
age.  Mr.  Ker  furnishes  incontestable  evidence  in  these  sermons  of 
possessing  genius  of  a  high  order,  in  rare  combination  with  eminent 
wisdom  and  truest  goodness.  He  displays  great  compass  and  exquisite 
balance  of  mental  powers,  all  enriched  by  a  high  and  varied  culture. 
He  is  possessed  of  a  glowing  imagination,  a  clear  understanding,  a 
sound  judgment,  and  a  warm  heart,  —  a  logical  faculty  singularly 
strong  in  its  grasp,  and  an  intense  sympathy  with  the  true,  the  beau- 
tiful, and  the  good.  He  looks  over  the  field  of  sacred  thought  with 
the  soul  of  a  true  poet,  and  discourses  on  the  great  themes  of  revela- 
tion as  one  feeling  the  throb  of  the  higher  life ;  and  hence  every  truth 
he  touches  is  presented  with  a  vividness  and  warmth  of  coloring  which 
commends  it  at  once  to  the  approval  of  the  reason  and  the  acceptance 
of  the  heart.  This  living  power  he  wields  is  greatly  enhanced  by  an 
affluence  of  felicitous  metaphor,  in  which  a  poetic  fancy  clothes  pro- 
found and  beautiful  thoughts,  making  them  instinct  with  life,  and 
stamping  them  in  lasting  impression  on  the  soul.  It  is  thus  he  speaks 
of  Christian  struggles  after  trust  of  the  Divine  mercy,  in  memory  of 
past  sins  :  "  This  is  one  of  the  sorest  trials  of  a  renewed  life,  that  it 
is  built  over  dark  dungeons,  where  dead  things  may  be  buried  but  not 
forgotten,  and  where,  through  the  open  grating,  rank  vapors  still 
ascend."  And  thus  he  describes  the  longing  of  the  human  spirit  for 
something  higher  than  a  knowledge  of  the  facts  and  laws  of  the 
external  world :  "How  sad  would  this  be,  to  be  ever  enlarging  our 
vision  of  endless  mechanism,  but  never  to  come  in  sight  of  a  great 
intelligent  Maker,  to  perceive  wondrous  life  in  worlds  around  and  be- 
neath, but  no  life  above  or  before ;  life  only  tending  to  death,  and 


never  reflecting  a  life  that  lives  for  ever,  —  rain-drops  dropping  in  a 
vault,  and  gravitating  eternally  to  darkness,  but  no  dew-drops  return- 
ing the  look  of  God,  and  drawn  up  as  by  sunbeams  into  his  presence/' 
And  thus  he  sets  forth  the  union  of  working  and  watching  in  every 
true  life  :  "  In  every  soul  there  should  be  the  sisters  of  Bethany, 
active  effort  and  quiet  thought,  and  both  agreeing  in  mutual  love  and 
help.  But  Mary  no  longer  sits  at  the  feet  of  Christ  and  looks  in  his 
face.  She  stands  at  the  door  and  gazes  out  into  the  open  sky  to  watch 
the  tokens  of  his  coming,  while  in  this  hope  her  sister  in  the  house 
still  works."  The  volume  throughout  sparkles  with  gems  of  thought 
such  as  these,  and  in  many  Scripture  allusions  new  and  deep  mean- 
ings gleam  out  from  the  divine  words,  touching  the  springs  of  the 
inner  life.  The  discourses  embrace  a  wide  range  and  diversity  of  sub- 
jects, not  a  few  of  which  are  out  of  the  common  course  of  pulpit 
ministration.  They  all  revolve,  however,  around  the  central  truth  of 
the  gospel  —  Christ  crucified ;  but  this  is  viewed  in  many  fresh  and 
varied  lights.  In  these,  special  prominence  is  given  to  the  Great  Per- 
sonality, the  Word  dwelling  on  earth,  God's  Son  and  Man's  Brother, 
drawing  human  souls  to  Him  in  trust,  in  love,  in  sympathy,  by  the 
fulness  of  grace  and  truth  He  displays.  Several  of  the  sermons 
traverse  the  higher  paths  of  Christian  and  philosophic  research,  and 
this  with  pre-eminent  ability ;  they  abound  with  many  brilliant  and 
original  thoughts,  while  they  evince  consummate  skill  in  conducting  a 
lofty  argument  to  successful  issues.  But  the  greater  portion  of  the 
discourses  are  devoted  to  topics  intimately  connected  with  daily 
Christian  faith  and  practice,  and  are  marked  throughout  by  an  admi- 
rable exhibition  of  Scripture  truth,  of  elevated  sentiment,  of  genial 
sympathies,  and  of  practical  power.  The  style  in  all  is  in  full  har 
mony  with  the  thought,  flowing  on  in  measured,  musical  cadence,  — 
"as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that  can  play  well  on  an  instrument,  " 
—  always  luminous,  elegant,  vigorous,  captivating,  often  deepening 
into  tender  pathos,  or  rising  into  lofty  eloquence.  Take  it  all  in  all, 
we  do  not  know  a  volume  of  sermons  superior  to  this  in  the  language. 
Others  may  surpass  them  in  some  single  feature  of  excellence,  but  in 
the  manifold  combination  of  merits  they  possess  we  could  not  name 
any  that  take  rank  above  them  within  the  whole  compass  of  our  reli- 
gious literature. 


C^e  ww  ^amn  ana  tlje  Main, 


Clje  J®ay  ^atrni  ami  tlje  Kaiu. 


AND    OTHER 


SERMONS 


BY 


THE    REV.    JOHN    KER, 

GLASGOW,    SCOTLAND. 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

530,  Bkoadway. 

•     1872. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
PRESS  OF  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SOW. 


The  following  Sermons  have  been  given  to  the  press 
chiefly  for  the  sake  of  those  whom  the  author  was  ac- 
customed to  address  by  the  living  voice,  and  whom  he 
can,  at  present,  reach  but  seldom  through  that  means. 
His  purpose  will  be  served  if  the  volume  helps  them  in 
the  way  of  remembrance,  and  more  than  served  if, 
through  God's  blessing,  it  shall  prove  of  any  use  beyond 
their  circle.  Most  of  the  Sermons,  though  not  all,  have 
been  preached,  and  the  exception  is  referred  to  in  order 
to  account  for  some  of  them  exceeding  the  limits  which 
are  ordinarily  assigned  to  spoken  discourse.  The  sub- 
jects have  not  been  selected  with  any  attempt  at  unity 
in  the  illustration  of  Christian  doctrine  or  duty.  An 
effort  has  rather  been  made  to  secure  a  variety  of  topics. 
When  human  knowledge  and  life  are  spreading  out  into 
ever  wider  circuits,  the  Christian  ministry  must  seek 
to  show  itself  a  debtor  to  men  of  every  class  and  char- 
acter, and  must  endeavor  to  prove  that  there  is  no  de- 
partment of  thought  or  action  which  cannot  be  touched 
by  that  Gospel  which  is  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God. 
The  more  we  study  the  way  of  God's  commandments, 
the  more  shall  we  find  it  as  broad  as  his  other  works, 
and  increasingly  rich  to  meet  all  the  developments  of 
human  nature.     At  the  same  time,  it  is  hoped  that  the 


VI 


unity  sought  to  be  indicated  by  beginning  and  ending 
the  volume  with  Christ  Jesus,  is  not  merely  formal, 
and  that,  whatever  may  be  the  theme,  it  will  be  seen 
and  felt  to  base  itself  on  that  One  Foundation,  and  to 
strive,  though  all  imperfectly,  after  the  excellency  of 
his  knowledge. 


CONTENTS, 


I. 

CHRIST  THE  DAY-DAWN  AND  THE  RAIN. 

Pao> 

11  His  going  forth  is  prepared  as  the  morning  ;  and  he  shall  come  unto 

us  as  the  rain." — Hos.  vi.  3 7 

II. 
CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

"Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  If  a  man  love  me,  he  will  keep 

my  words."— John  xiv.  23 26 

III. 

CHRIST   IN   SIMON'S   HOUSE  — THE  PHARISEE'S  MISTAKE. 

"  Now  when  the  Pharisee,  which  had  bidden  him,  saw  it,  he  spake 
within  himself,  saying,  This  man,  if  he  were  a  prophet,  would  have 
known  who  and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is  that  toucheth  him ; 
for  she  is  a  sinner." — Luke  vn.  39 44 

IV. 
GOD'S  WORD   SUITED  TO  MAN'S   SENSE  OF  WONDER. 

"  Open  thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things  out  of 

thy  law." — Psalm  cxix.  18 69 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

V. 

INCREASE  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  INCREASE  OF  SORROW. 

Page 

"  He  that  increaseth  knowledge  increaseth  sorrow."  —  Eccles.  i.  18    .      76 

VI. 

GOD  DECLINING  FIRST  OFFERS  OF  SERVICE. 

"And  Joshua  said  unto  the  people,  Ye  cannot  serve  the  Lord:  for 
he  is  an  holy  God;  he  is  a  jealous  God;  he  will  not  forgive  your 
transgressions  nor  your  sins." — Joshua  xxiv.  19 90 

VII. 

A  WORLDLY  CHOICE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

"  And  Lot  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the  plain  of  Jordan,  that 
it  was  well  watered  everywhere  —  even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
like  the  land  of  Egypt,  as  thou  comest  unto  Zoar.  Then  Lot  chose 
him  all  the  plain  of  Jordan."— Gen.  xni.  10,  11 104 


VIII. 

IS   MAN  ENTIRELY  SELFISH? 

"  Then  Satan  answered  the  Lord,  and  said,  Doth  Job  fear  God  for 

nought?"— Job  i.  9 120 


LX. 

NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD. 

"  And  when  Jesus  saw  that  he  answered  discreetly,  he  said  unto  him, 

Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God."  —  Matt.  xii.  34    .     .     147 


X. 

WORK  AND  WATCHING. 

For  the  Son  of  man  is  as  a  man  taking  a  far  journey,  who  left  his 
house,  and  gave  authority  to  his  servants,  and  to  every  man  his 
work,  and  commanded  the  porter  to  watch." — Mark  xni.  34  .    .    168 


CONTENTS.  ix 


XI. 

THE  BURIAL   OF  MOSES  — ITS  LESSONS  AND   SUGGESTIONS. 

Page 
"  And  the  Lord  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab,  over 

against  Beth-peor;   but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto 

this  day." — Deut.  xxxiv.  6 184 

XII. 

MOSES  AND  STEPHEN  — THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW. 

"  And  when  Aaron  and  all  the  children  of  Israel  saw  Moses,  behold 
the  skin  of  his  face  shone:  and  they  were  afraid  to  come  nigh 
him." —  Exod.  xxxiv.  30. 

u  And  all  that  sat  in  the  council,  looking  steadfastly  on  Stephen,  saw 

his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel." —  Acts  vi.  15  .    .    .    203 

xni. 

FAITH'S  APPROACH  TO   CHRIST. 
(BEFORE  communion.) 
*'  And  behold,  a  woman,  which  was  diseased  with  an  issue  of  blood 
twelve  years,  came  behind  him  and  touched  the  hem  of  his  gar- 
ment: for  she  said  within  herself,  If  I  may  but  touch  his  garment 
I  shall  be  whole."—  Matt.  ix.  20 221 

XIV. 

CHRIST  NOT  PLEASING  HIMSELF  —  CHRISTIAN  AND 
SOCIAL  TOLERANCE. 

"  Let  every  one  of  us  please  his  -neighbor  for  his  good  to  edifica- 
tion. For  even  Christ  pleased  not  himself;  but,  as  it  is  written, 
The  reproaches  of  them  that  reproached  thee  fell  on  me."  — 
Rom.  xv.  2,  3 233 

XV. 

THE  CHANGES   OF  LIFE  AND  THEIR   COMFORTS   IN  GOD. 

"  Yet  the  Lord  will  command  his  loving-kindness  in  the  daytime,  and 
in  the  night  his  song  shall  be  with  me,  and  my  prayer  unto  the 
God  of  my  life."— Psalm  xlh.  8 251 


X  CONTENTS. 

XVI. 

THE   GOSPEL  AND   THE  MAGNITUDE   OF   CREATION. 

Page 
"  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  th}r  fingers,  the  moon  and 
the  stars,  which  thou  hast  ordained ;  what  is  man,  that  thou  art 
mindful  of  him?  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  vi*itest  him?  "  — 
Psalm  viii.  3,  4 266 

XVII. 

REASONS    WHY   GOD   SHOULD    CONTRADICT   OUR    HOPE 
OF  IMMORTALITY   IF  IT   WERE   FALSE. 

"  If  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you."  —John  xiv.  2 2S7 

XVIII. 

CHRIST'S    DELAY   TO   INTERPOSE   AGAINST    DEATH 

"Then  when  Mary  was  come  where  Jesus  was,  and  saw  him,  she  fell 
down  at  his  feet,  saying  unto  him,  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  heen  here, 
my  brother  had  not  died." — John  xi.  32 311 


XIX. 

JUDAS  AND  THE  PRIESTS— THE  END  OF  EVIL  ASSOCIATION. 

"  Then  Judas,  which  had  betrayed  him,  when  he  saw  that  he  was  con- 
demned, repented  himself,  and  brought  again  the  thirty  pieces  of 
silver  to  the  chief  priests  and  elders,  saying,  I  have  sinned  in  that 
I  have  betrayed  the  innocent  blood.  And  they  said,  What  is  that 
to  us?  see  thou  to  that."  —  Matt.  xx*ii.  3,  4 330 


XX. 


Ci.in.  i'S   RETICENCE   IN  TEACHING   TRUTH. 

"I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them 

now."  —  John  xvi.  12 353 


CONTENTS.  XI 


XXI. 


CHRIST'S  DESIRE  TO   EAT   OF   THE  LAST  PASSOVER. 

(before  communion.) 

Pagk 
"  And  he  said  unto  them,  With  desire  I  have  desired  to  eat  this  pass- 
over  with  you  before  I  suffer."—  Luke  xxii.  15 371 

XXII. 

CHRIST'S   PRAYER  FOR  HIS   DISCIPLES. 
(AFTER  communion.) 

"  I  pray  not  that  thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world,  but  that 

thou  shouldest  keep  them  from  the  evil."  —  John  xvn.  15    ...    389 

XXIII. 

HOPE  AND  PATIENCE. 

"It  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salva- 
tion of  the  Lord."  —Lam.  hi.  26       407 

XXIV. 

THE  ETERNAL  FUTURE  CLEAR  ONLY  IN  CHRIST. 

"  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be :  but  we  know  that  when  he 
shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  him;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." 
—  1  John  hi.  2 427 


THE  DAY-DAWN  AND  THE  KAIN. 


MM   tint  flag-flmcn  and   tlte   |[atit. 

"  His  going  forth  is  j>re fared  as  the  morning ;  and  He  shall 
come  unto  us  as  the  rain."  —  Hosea  vi.  3. 


HESE  ancient  Jews  must  have  been  very- 
much  like  ourselves,  neither  better  nor 
worse,  and  as  we  read  about  them,  we  can 
read  our  own  hearts.  The  preceding  chapter  con- 
tains an  account  of  their  sins  and  backslidings, 
and  of  their  vain  attempts,  under  the  miserable  con- 
sequences, to  find  help  in  man.  At  last  it  concludes 
with  a  declaration  on  the  part  of  God  that  he  will  re- 
turn to  his  place,  till  they  seek  him,  and  with  a 
promise  that  this  shall  not  be  in  vain,  "  In  their  afflic- 
tion they  shall  seek  me  early." 

The  present  chapter  begins  with  a  fulfilment  of 
this  promise.  The  children  of  Israel  take  with  them 
words,  and  say,  "  Come  and  let  us  return  unto  the 
Lord."  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  any  creature  to  as- 
suage the  wounds  of  the  heart,  when  they  have  been 

(7) 


8  CHRTST    THE    DAY-DAWN    AND    THE    RAIN. 

felt  in  all  their  depth.  It  is  only  in  Him  who  made 
the  heart,  then,  to  heal  it ;  and  he  can  and  will.  The 
God  who  has  established  great  laws  around  us  for 
the  preservation  of  his  world,  for  giving  man  life  and 
light  and  sustenance,  has  made  his  arrangements 
also,  for  the  cure  of  our  hearts'  maladies,  and  the  sal- 
vation of  our  souls.  He  has  gathered  all  these  ar- 
rangements closely  around  his  own  person.  Our 
body's  life  may  lie  in  knowing  his  laws  ;  but  our 
soul's  life  consists  in  knowing  himself.  "  Then  shall 
we  know,  if  we  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord  :  his  go- 
ing forth  is  prepared  as  the  morning  ;  and  he  shall 
come  unto  us  as  the  rain." 

These  words  were,  no  doubt,  fulfilled  in  many  a 
deliverance  of  the  Jewish  people  ;  but  their  own  most 
ancient  commentators  find  their  last  fulfilment  in 
the  great  promised  Messiah,  to  whom  all  the  prophets 
gave  witness.  The  promises  of  the  Old  Testament 
are  waves  which  urge  each  other  on,  to  rise  and  fall  in 
many  a  deliverance,  until  at  length  they  break  on  the 
great  shore  of  all  safety,  —  the  salvation  which  is  in 
Christ,  with  eternal  glory.  And  it  would  surely  be  a 
shame  for  us  Christians  to  do  less  than  ancient  Jew- 
ish doctors  did,  to  fail  in  finding  here  a  prophecy  of 
the  world's  Redeemer.  It  is  Christ,  then,  whom  our 
faith  must  grasp  under  these  two  figures,  the  Day- 
dawn  and  the  Rain. 

The  world  is  a  great  book  of  symbols  for  the  soul 
of  man  to  read  God  by,  and  they  are  never  so  inter- 
esting and  beautiful  as  when,  with  the  warrant  of 
Scripture,  the  name  of  Christ  is  put  within  them,  not 
for  mutual  obscuration,  but  that  they  may  shine  forth 


CHRIST    THE    DAY-DAWN    AND    THE    RAIN.  \) 

illuminated  and  illuminating.  The  Day-dawn  and 
the  Rain, —  there  must  be  something  of  common 
likeness  in  them,  for  they  both  apply  to  the  same 
great  Person,  and  yet  there  must  be  something  dis- 
tinctive meant  to  be  conveyed,  for  the  word  of  God 
uses  no  vain  repetitions,  no  mere  figures  of  rhetoric. 
When  we  come  to  the  New  Testament,  we  find  clearly 
revealed  what  the  ancient  prophets  dimly  suggested. 
There  is  a  twofold  coming  of  the  Son  of  God,  the 
first  in  his  own  person  to  establish  and  confirm  the 
gospel,  the  second  in  his  Holy  Spirit  to  apply  to  the 
heart.  The  one  of  these  may  very  fitly  be  compared 
to  the  morning,  the  other  to  the  rain.  Indeed,  these 
are  the  two  figures  most  frequently  used  in  this  con- 
nection all  through  the  Bible.  Christ  himself  is  the 
Light  of  the  world,  the  Sun  of  righteousness.  His 
Spirit  is  poured  forth  as  floods  on  the  thirsty  ;  and 
when,  on  the  great  day  of  the  feast  (John  vii.  30),  he 
invited  men  to  come  unto  him  and  drink,  "  he  spake 
of  the  Spirit  which  they  that  believe  on  him  should 
receive."  We  shall  seek  to  apply  these  figures,  then, 
to  Christ,  —  to  look  upon  his  personal  coming  as  rep- 
resented by  the  morning,  his  coming  in  his  Holy 
Spirit  as  symbolized  by  the  rain,  and  to  present  them, 
first,  in  the  common  resemblances  which  they  have  ; 
and,  second,  in  some  of  their  points  of  distinction. 

I.  The  Day-dawn  and  the  Rain  represent  some  re- 
semblances between  the  coming  of  Christ  in  his  gos- 
pel and  in  his  Spirit. 

They  have  this  resemblance,  first,  that  they  have 
the  same  manifest  origin.     The  day-dawn  comes  from 


10  CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN   AND   THE   RAIN. 

heaven,  and  so  also  does  the  rain.  They  are  not  of 
man's  ordering  and  making,  but  of  God's.  They  are 
of  the  good  and  perfect  gifts  which  come  from  above 
from  the  Father  of  lights.  And  they  bear  the  im- 
print of  God's  hand  upon  them,  —  the  morning,  when 
it  walks  forth  from  the  opening  clouds  of  the  east 
tinges  the  mountain-tops  with  gold,  and  floods  the 
earth  with  glory,  —  and  the  rain,  when  it  shakes  its 
bountiful  treasures  far  and  wide  over  waiting  lands, 
till  the  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side.  Their  height, 
their  power,  their  breadth  of  range,  mark  them  out 
from  all  man's  works. 

And  it  is  not  less  so  with  the  gospel  and  Spirit  of 
Christ.  Men  neither  invented  them  nor  discovered 
them.  It  is  that  God  "  who  commanded  the  light  to 
shine  out  of  darkness  that  shines  into  men's  hearts 
the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  his  glory  in  the  face  of 
Jesus  Christ."  And  to  a  man  who  can  look  aright 
they  have  the  same  impress  of  divinity.  They  carry 
their  evidence  with  them,  like  heaven's  sun  and 
heaven's  rain.  They  are  above  man's  finding  out, 
naturally  above  his  conception.  As  the  heavens  are 
high  above  the  earth,  so  are  the  great  thoughts  of 
God  in  them  above  man's  thoughts.  The  Son  of  God 
coming  from  heaven  to  die  for  man,  the  Spirit  of  God 
coming  from  heaven  to  live  in  man,  to  change  man, 
the  enemy  of  God,  into  his  friend,  his  heir,  and  to  do 
this  for  all  who  are  but  willing  to  make  God's  Son 
and  Spirit  welcome,  these  are  thoughts  which  have  a 
majesty  and  range  so  great  and  godlike  that  they  show 
their  origin.  "  This  is  not  the  manner  of  men,  0 
Lord  God  !  "     Men  may  discuss  these  things  hardly 


CHRIST   THE    DAY-DAWN    AND    THE    RAIN.  11 

and  coldly  when  they  are  outside  of  them,  and  may 
admit  or  deny  them,  as  a  nation  of  the  blind  might 
the  sunlight,  or  the  tribes  of  the  waterless  desert  the 
rain ;  but  let  them  know  and  feel  their  power,  and 
there  is  but  one  resource,  to  say,  "  It  is  of  God."  It 
is  the  sunlight  within  which  lets  men  see  the  sun 
without.  When  a  man  is  brought  to  say,  "  One  thing 
I  know,  that,  whereas,  I  was  blind  now  I  see,"  he  be- 
comes witness  to  a  spiritual  world  opening  around 
him  in  all  its  brightness  and  blessedness,  with  "  its 
eyes  like  unto  the  eyelids  of  the  morning  ;  "  and  he 
can  challenge  all  who  would  impugn  its  divine  re- 
ality, "  Hast  thou  commanded  the  morning  since  thy 
days,  or  made  this  day-spring  to  know  its  place  ?  " 
If  he  come  to  feel  the  gracious  showers  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  upon  his  soul,  in  refreshment,  in  comfort,  in 
strength  for  hard  duty,  in  patience  under  sore  trial ; 
if  he  feel  the  weary  heart  revived  as  a  flower  after  a 
sultry  noon-day  lifts  its  head  amid  the  rain-drops  ;  if 
he  should  learn  that  this  experience  belongs  to  many 
beside  and  around  him,  he  can  answer  the  scorner  of 
a  Divine  Spirit,  "  Canst  thou  lift  up  thy  voice  to 
the  clouds  that  abundance  of  waters  may  cover  thee  ?  " 
Here,  then,  let  us  seek  to  learn  the  origin  of  our 
faith  in  a  study  of  the  grandeur  and  comprehensive- 
ness of  its  plan,  and  in  a  feeling  of  its  power  in  our 
souls.  The  same  God  who  makes  morning  to  the 
world  by  the  sun,  gives  the  dawn  of  a  new  creation 
to  the  spirit  of  men  through  the  Saviour. 

The  next  point  of  resemblance  we  mention  is  that 
they  have  the  same  mode  of  operation  on  the  part  of 
God.     That   mode   of  operation  is  soft  and   silent. 


12  CHRIST   THE    DAY-DAWN    AND    THE   RAIN. 

The  greatest  powers  of  nature  work  most  calmly  and 
noiselessly.  What  so  gentle  as  the  day-dawn  rising 
mutely  in  the  brightening  east,  and  pouring  its  light 
upon  the  eye  sp  softly  that,  swift  as  are  those  rays, 
the  tenderest  texture  of  the  eye  endures  no  wrong  ? 
And  what  more  soft  than  the  spring's  falling  rain  ? 
It  may  come  preceded  by  the  thunder,  but  it  is  gentle 
itself,  and  when  most  efficacious  descends  almost  as  a 
spiritual  presence,  "  as  the  small  rain  on  th'e  tender 
herb,  and  as  showers  that  water  the  grass." 

And  like  to  these  in  their  operations  are  the  gos- 
pel and  Spirit  of  Christ.  When  our  Saviour  came 
into  the  world  it  was  silently  and  alone.  All  heaven 
was  moved,  and  followed  him  down  to  the  threshold, 
but  few  on  earth  knew  it.  One  solitary  star  pointed 
to  the  humble  birthplace,  and  sang  hymns  of  it,  heard 
only  at  night  by  the  watching  shepherds.  He  walked 
our  world  through  years  softly  m  the  bitterness  of  his 
soul.  He  left  where  the  common  eye  beheld  but  an 
ignominious  sufferer,  one  of  three,  and  men  became 
aware  that  the  Son  of  God  had  come  and  gone  only 
when  the  clear  light  began  to  break  in  the  eastern 
sky  from  that  great  work  of  his  ;  and  when  the  open 
gate  of  mercy  was  thrown  back,  with  a  cross  before  it, 
to  call  the  lost  and  wandering  home.  And  as  it  was 
with  his  descent  into  the  world,  so  is  it,  in  the  general, 
with  his  entrance  by  his  Spirit  into  the  heart.  There 
may  be  the  thunder  and  the  mighty  rushing  wind  be- 
fore it,  the  providences  may  be  loud  and  violent,  but 
the  Spirit  itself  is  like  the  rain.  It  moves  from  soul  to 
soul  among  the  rising  generations,  and  there  is  no 
outward  crisis  to  tell  of  the  birth  of  souls.     It  is  like 


CHRIST    THE    DAY-DAWN    AND    THE    RAIN.  13 

the  dew  that  falls  at  night,  and  in  the  morning  it  is 
there,  and  man  cannot  tell  when  it  formed  itself,  like 
a  celestial  guest,  within  the  flower-cup.  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  cometh  not  with  observation.  And, 
even  in  times  of  revival  more  marked,  for  such  times 
are  promised  and  should  be  expected  ;  yet  even  in 
such  times,  the  Spirit's  great  work  is  not  in  the  earth- 
quake, or  the  mighty  rushing  wind,  but  in  the  still 
small  voice.  Unless  it  meet  us  there,  in  the  secrecy 
of  the  soul,  in  the  privacy  of  the  closet,  in  the  rising 
to  seek  Christ  at  his  grave,  in  the  quiet  resurrection 
morn,  when  the  busy  world  and  all  the  guards  are 
asleep,  unless  it  bring  the  soul  into  close  and  secret 
communion  with  Christ  himself,  it  meets  us  not  at  all. 
In  his  gospel  and  his  Spirit,  Christ  is  moving  through 
the  great  inner  world  which  men  too  much  neglect,  — 
the  world  of  souls ;  and  there  in  the  solitude  of  the 
heart,  alone  with  him,  it  must  be  ours  to  seek  and 
find. 

There  is  a  further  point  of  resemblance  in  this, 
that  they  have  the  same  form  of  approach  to  us, — 
in  perfect  freeness  and  fulness.  The  morning  light 
comes  unfettered  by  any  conditions,  and  so,  also,  de- 
cends  the  rain.  They  are,  like  God's  great  gifts, 
without  money  and  without  price  ;  and  they  come 
with  an  overflowing  plenty,  for  freeness  and  fulness 
go  hand  in  hand.  The  morning  sun  shines  with 
light  for  every  eye,  however  many,  and  were  there 
millions  more  there  is  enough  for  all.  So  it  is  with 
the  rain.  Every  field  and  flower  may  have  its  full 
share,  and  none  need  envy  or  rob  another.  "  Thou 
visitest  the  earth  and   waterest   it,  thou   greatly  en- 


14  CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN   AND   THE   RAIN. 

richest  it  with  the  river  of  God,  which  is  full  of  wa 
ter." 

And  in  this  they  are  fit  and  blessed  emblems  of  the 
way  in  which  Christ  approaches  us,  both  with  his  gos- 
pel and  his  Spirit.  That  gospel  opens  on  the  world 
priceless  and  free  as  the  light  which  waits  but  for  the 
eye  to  be  unclosed  to  see  and  share  it  all.  And  there 
it  stands,  as  full  as  it  is  free.  It  is  one  thing,  like  the 
sun,  for  all,  and  it  is  all  for  each  one.  However 
many  have  come  to  Christ,  there  is  enough  for  us  in 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  to-day,  as  if  he  had  risen 
but  for  the  first  time,  and  there  will  be  till  the  world's 
close.  How  plain  and  simple  this  is,  and  yet  it  needs 
an  effort  on  our  part  to  appreciate  it  in  its  simplicity, 
to  appropriate  it  in  its  perfect  freeness,  to  feel  that 
we  can  do  no  more  to  earn  Christ's  grace  than  to 
earn  the  daylight,  and  that  it  is  just  as  freely  offered 
to  us.  Fellow-sinners  and  fellow-Christians,  let  us 
ask  Himself  to  teach  it  to  us,  to  teach  it  by  appearing 
in  his  own  person  and  work,  as  the  light  of  life. 
"  Behold  me,  behold  me !  Look  unto  me  and  be  ye 
saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth!"  and  then,  blessed 
revelation !  by  that  opening  of  the  eyes  to  him,  it 
shall  be  all  our  own  !  "  They  looked  unto  him  and 
were  lightened  ;  and  their  faces  were  not  ashamed." 
So  free  is  the  gospel,  and  so  free,  also,  is  the  Spirit 
of  Christ.  He  is  that  "  free  Spirit,"  that  "  liberal 
Spirit,"  of  whom  the  Psalmist  speaks,  who  waits  but 
for  our  request  to  come  down  and  fill  our  hearts 
with  his  refreshing  rain.  Nay,  the  petition  we  raise 
is  of  his  prompting.  He  comes  unasked,  and  when 
we  think  not  of  him,  like  the  "  dew  of  the  Lord  that 


CHRIST  THE   DAY-DAWN   AND   THE   RAIN.  15 

waitetli  not  for  man  nor  tarrieth  for  the  sons  of 
men."  The  Spirit  and  the  bride  both  say,  M  come !  " 
Let  ns  be  firmly  persuaded  that  Christ  is  offering 
his  spirit  as  freely  to  us  as  his  gospel.  Nor  has  the 
Spirit  less  fulness.  He  is  ready  to  pour  water  on 
the  thirsty,  and  floods  on  the  dry  ground.  It  is  his 
special  work  to  exhibit  the  abundant  freeness  and 
riches  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,  to  unfold  and  analyze 
it  that  we  may  see  it  in  its  manifold  beauty,  as  the 
sunlight  is  analyzed  by  the  glittering  dew-drops,  or 
held  up  before  the  world  in  the  emerald  rainbow.  So 
Christ  himself  has  said  of  the  Spirit, "  He  shall  glo- 
rify me,  for  he  shall  receive  of  mine  and  shall  show  it 
unto  you  (John  xvi.  14).  Therefore  let  us  be  assured 
that  the  Spirit  of  Christ  draws  near  to  us  without  any 
fettering  condition,  and  without  any  restraining  meas- 
ure, even  as  the  gospel  does.  "  Behold  I  will  pour 
out  my  spirit  unto  you,  I  will  make  known  my 
words  unto  you."  And  let  us  carry  this  faith  into 
our  prayers.  The  promise  of  the  Spirit  by  Christ  is 
followed  by  this  command,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  re- 
ceive, that  your  joy  may  be  full. 

The  last  point  of  resemblance  we  mention  is,  that 
they  have  the  same  object  and  end.  It  is  the  trans- 
formation of  death  into  life,  and  the  raising  of  that 
which  lives  into  a  higher  and  fairer  form.  The  morn- 
ing sun  and  the  morning  rain-cloud  may  seem  wide 
apart  in  their  purpose,  may  appear  at  times  to  ob- 
struct each  other,  but  they  have  one  great  aim.  The 
sun  and  the  rain  come  to  the  dying  seed,  and  both 
together  draw  it  from  darkness  to  light,  and  build  it 
up  into  the  blade,  the  ear,  and  the  full  corn  in  the 


16  CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN    AND   THE   RAIN. 

ear,  that  God's  world  may  live  and  praise  his  name. 
Both  are  rich  in  times  of  refreshment,  —  the  sun  after 
the  dark  night,  the  rain  after  the  parched  day  ;  and 
after  both  the  flower  raises  its  head,  and  the  birds 
sing,  and  men  are  glad. 

Here,  too,  they  are  emblems  of  the  gospel  and 
Spirit  of  Christ.  These,  in  like  manner,  have  the 
same  aim,  —  life  and  revival.  The  gospel  of  Christ 
is  the  word  of  life.  Its  aim  is  to  bring  dead  souls 
into  contact  with  Him  who  has  said,  "I  am  come 
that  they  might  have  life."  The  Holy  Ghost  is  the 
Spirit  of  life.  It  is  for  this  that  he  urges,  entreats, 
and  strives  with  the  soul  in  secret,  —  that  he  is  so 
patient  in  waiting,  and  so  loath  to  leave.  Christ  is 
no  less  earnest  for  our  eternal  life  in  the  one  than  in 
the  other.  We  are  too  ready  to  forget  this,  to  think 
less  of  the  love  of  the  Spirit  sinking  down  into  the  com- 
munings of  the  heart  and  conscience,  and  working 
there  in  silence  and  in  secret,  than  of  that  transpar- 
ent love  which  is  written  on  the  word  with  a  beam 
of  light ;  but  they  unite  in  the  same  merciful  purpose, 
and  it  will  never  be  well  with  us  until  we  meet  Christ 
as  willingly  when  he  comes  to  strive  with  us  in  sol- 
itude, as  when  he  openly  proclaims  his  gracious  call. 
And  as  both  work  together  for  life,  so  both  must  co- 
operate for  revival.  If  God's  heritage  is  to  be  re- 
freshed when  it  is  weary,  it  must  be  with  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit  equally  witli  the  presentation 
of  a  clear,  full  gospel.  The  ancient  Church  was 
aware  of  this,  as  well  as  we  who  look  back  to  the  day 
of  Pentecost.  They  knew  that  upon  "  the  land  of 
God's  people  shall  come  up  thorns  and  briers,  until 


CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN    AND   THE   RAIN.  17 

the  Spirit  is  poured  upon  us  from  on  high,"  and 
when  the  individual  believer  prayed  for  return  of  life 
to  his  soul,  he  bent  his  knees  with  these  words,  u  Re- 
store unto  me  the  joy  of  thy  salvation ;  and  uphold 
me  with  thy  free  Spirit." 

II.  We  come  now  to  some  of  the  points  of  dis- 
tinction between  them. 

The  first  we  mention  is,  that  Christ's  approach  to 
men  has  a  general,  and  yet  a  special  aspect.  The 
sun  comes  every  morning  with  a  broad,  unbroken 
look,  shining  for  all  and  singling  out  none.  There 
is  a  universality  of  kindness  about  him  which  men 
with  all  their  powers  of  limitation  have  never  been 
able  to  abridge.  The  poorest  man  and  the  richest, 
all  classes  and  all  things,  have  the  same  access  to  his 
undivided  effulgence.  But  the  rain  as  it  decends 
breaks  into  drops,  and  hangs  with  its  globules  on 
every  blade.  "  God  maketh  small  the  drops  of  water." 
There  is  a  wonderful  individualizing  power  in  rain. 
It  comes  to  the  minutest  part  of  God's  world  with  its 
separate  message,  trickles  from  joint  to  joint  of  every 
grass  stem,  creeps  into  the  smallest  crevice  that  is 
opening  its  parched  lips,  pierces  to  the  blind  roots  of 
things,  and,  where  it  cannot  carry  God's  light  into 
darkness,  seeks  to  allure  from  darkness  up  into  the 
light  of  God. 

There  is  this  twofold  aspect  in  the  coming  of 
Christ.  The  gospel  of  his  grace  enters  the  world 
with  the  broad,  universal  look  of  daylight.  It  is  as 
wide  and  open  to  all,  with  its  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God !  "  It  singles  out  none,  that  it  may  exclude 
none,  —  that  it  may  be  ready  to  bless  a  whole  guilty 


18  CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN   AND   THE   RAIN. 

world  with  the  same  impartiality  as  the  sun,  as  God 
himself  when  "  He  looketh  abroad  and  seeth  under 
the  whole  heaven."  And  this  lies  not  only  in  the 
words  of  the  gospel  offer,  but  in  the  real  provision  of 
it.  The  arms  of  God  are  as  wide  as  his  call,  and  the 
power  of  Christ's  atonement  is  as  unlimited  as  the 
invitation  to  it.  Each  one  of  us  knows  here,  not 
merely  what  God  is  doing  for  ourselves,  but  for  every 
other  man  of  the  race,  and  can  say  with  confidence, 
"  Come  with  me  into  this  broad  and  blessed  sun- 
light ;  it  is  for  thee  as  for  me  ;  nay,  I  could  not 
know  that  it  is  for  me  unless  I  were  sure  that  it  is 
for  thee  also,  and  for  every  man,  in  as  entire  sin- 
cerity." But  Christ  comes  after  another  manner 
with  his  spirit.  Here  no  man  can  tell  how  God  is 
dealing  with  another.  He  approaches  the  door  of 
the  single  heart,  and  says,  when  there  is  no  ear  to 
listen,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock."  In 
the  hour  of  thought,  in  the  depth  of  night,  in  the 
shadow  of  trial,  in  the  agony  of  remorse,  he  makes 
the  soul  feel  that  it  is  alone  with  Himself.  With 
every  one  of  us,  surely,  Christ  has  been  thus  deal- 
ing ;  taking  us  apart,  and  speaking  to  us  of  things 
that  none  knew  but  the  soul  and  he ;  making  our 
heart  thrill  and  tremble  as  he  touched  it,  till  we 
have  cried  out,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 
do  ?  "  If  we  have  felt  this,  if  we  are  feeling  it,  there 
is  a  terrible  responsibility  in  it,  where  none  can  help 
but  himself.  He  wrestles  with  us  in  the  dark,  that 
we  may  cling  to,  and  cast  ourselves  on  him  who 
wrestles  with  us:  "  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  mine 
unbelief,"  —  until,   bearing   the    soul's   burden,   he 


CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN    AND    THE   RAIN.  19 

helps  us  from  the  dark  into  the  daylight,  and  gives  us 
the  assurance  of  a  love  there  that  is  also  special  and 
personal,  u  Christ  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for 
me." 

Our  next  remark  is,  that  Christ's  coming  is  con- 
stant, and  yet  variable.  The  sunrise  is  of  all  things 
the  most  sure  and  settled.  What  consternation 
would  seize  the  world  if  it  delayed  one  hour,  if  God 
had  not  commanded  the  day-spring  to  know  its 
place !  But  for  the  rain  man  knows  no  fixed  rule. 
It  may  come  soon  or  late,  in  scanty  showers  or  plenti- 
ful floods.  This  is  dependent  on  arrangements 
which  are  no  doubt  certain,  but  which  we  have  not 
ascertained,  and  never  may.  The  sovereign  hand  of 
God,  giving  and  withholding,  appears  distinctly  in 
the  rain,  as  if  he  wished  that  we  should  always  have 
before  our  eyes  in  his  working,  the  two  great  features 
of  law  and  freedom. 

And  it  is  thus,  too,  with  the  coming  of  Christ.  He 
visits  men  in  his  gospel,  steady  and  unchanging  as 
the  sun.  Wheresoever  we  open  the  pages  of  his 
book,  his  promises  shine  out  sweet  as  the  light  and 
pleasant  to  the  eyes.  They  come  with  a  constant 
clearness  and  freshness  which  ought  to  make  us  feel 
that  at  every  moment  God  is  waiting  to  be  gracious 
to  us,  —  "I  bring  near  my  righteousness  ;  it  shall 
not  be  far  off,  and  my  salvation  shall  not  tarry." 
Whatever  changes  may  take  place  in  us,  whatever 
sins  and  backslidings  and  fearful  imaginings  of  un- 
pardonable guilt,  there,  written  in  the  Rock  of  Ages 
forever,  stand  the  words,  "  Him  that  cometh  unto 
Me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."     The  sun  of  Christ's 


20  CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN    AND   THE   RAIN. 

gospel  remains  moveless  in  the  midst  of  heaven  till 
the  world's  day  is  closed,  and  makes  it  to  every  sin- 
ner a  day  of  salvation  and  an  acceptable  time.  But 
with  the  Holy  Spirit  it  is  otherwise.  His  coming 
may  vary  in  time  and  place,  like  the  wind,  which 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  or  the  rain,  whose  arrival 
depends  on  causes  we  have  not  fathomed.  The  gift 
of  God's  Spirit  is  no  doubt  regulated,  also,  by  laws  ; 
but  these  laws  are  hidden  from  us  in  their  final 
grounds.  God  has  linked  these  more  directly  with 
his  own  absolute  sovereignty,  and  reserved  the  ulti- 
mate moving  powers  of  the  universe  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand.  The  clouds  of  revival  which  pass  from 
land  to  land,  who  can  predict  their  course,  or  trace 
their  laws,  and  say  why  they  pass  on,  and  why 
they  fall  in  blessing?  This  one  thing  we  do  know, 
and  it  is  the  most  practical,  that  prayer  is  closely 
connected  with  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit.  He 
who  has  bidden  us  ask  our  daily  bread  from  our 
heavenly  Father,  and  the  rain  that  is  to  give  it,  has 
bidden  us  ask,  also,  from  him  this  good  gift  of  his 
Holy  Spirit,  and  has  assured  us  that  he  will  not  deny 
it.  The  spirit  of  prayer  is  itself,  indeed,  the  spiritual 
rain  begun,  but  we  may  detain  it,  and  increase  the 
refreshing  showers.  We  can  lift  up  our  voice  to  the 
clouds,  that  abundance  of  waters  may  cover  us. 
And,  if  there  be  intermission  in  the  coming  of  Christ 
by  his  Spirit,  while  there  is  constancy  in  his  gospel,  it 
is,  that  we  may  be  kept  from  the  presumption  of 
spiritual  delay.  He  who  says  to  us  all  through  life 
"  Now  is  the  day  of  salvation,"  says,  also,  "  To-day,  if 
ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."     If 


CHRIST   THE   DAY-DAWN    AND   THE   RAIN.  21 

it  be  in  the  early  rain,  or  the  latter,  in  the  tender 
feelings  of  youth  or  the  solemn  thoughts  of  darken- 
ing years,  let  us  beseech  life  from  the  quickening 
spirit  while  he  is  near,  lest  the  gracious  influences 
pass  by,  and  our  souls  be  left  parched  forever. 

We  observe,  further,  that  Christ's  coining  may  be 
with  gladness,  and  yet  also  with  trouble.  What  in 
the  world  can  be  more  joyful  than  the  returning 
sun  !  Every  creature  feels  it,  and  wakes  up  in  cries 
and  songs  ;  and  the  dead,  dumb  earth  puts  off  its 
dark,  and  on  its  bright  and  many  colored  robes, 
when  God  covers  it  with  light  as  with  a  garment. 
It  is  the  emblem  of  God's  sunrise  in  Christ,  to  the 
world  and  to  every  individual  soul.  "  I  have  blotted 
out  as  a  thick  cloud  thy  transgressions,  and  as  a 
cloud  thy  sins.  Sing,  0  ye  heavens,  for  the  Lord 
hath  done  it !  shout,  ye  lower  parts  of  the  earth  ; 
break  forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains,  0  forest,  and 
every  tree  therein  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed  Ja- 
cob, and  glorified  himself  in  Israel! 

But  God  comes  also  in  the  cloud,  and  there  is  a 
shade  over  the  face  of  nature,  —  sometimes  in  the 
thunder-cloud,  dark  and  threatening,  and  bird  and 
beast  shrink  into  their  coverts,  silent  and  awed.  It 
represents  the  manner  in  which  Christ  sometimes 
comes,  through  his  Spirit,  in  the  conviction  of  sin. 
The  conscience  is  shaken  by  the  threatening  thunder 
of  his  law,  and  his  eye  looks  into  the  heart  like 
lightning,  while  his  voice  declares,  "  Thou  art  the 
man."  It  was  this  coming  that  so  shook  the  Jews 
at  the  preaching  of  Peter,  and  that  made  an  earth- 
quake in  the  soul  of  the  Philippi^n  jailer,  more  ter- 


X 


22  CHRIST  THE  DAY-DAWN  AND  THE  RAIN. 

rible  than  that  around  him,  till  he  cried,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? "  These  operations  may 
seem  at  times  to  conflict  with  each  other,  but  as  the 
God  of  nature  is  consistent  in  all  his  works,  so  also 
is  the  great  God  our  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ.  The 
same  wisdom  and  wonderful  power  of  combination 
which  are  seen  in  the  external  creation,  appear  also 
in  the  spiritual  universe,  of  which  Jesus  Christ  is 
Lord  and  God.  The  things  that  are  around  us,  in 
the  world  of  matter  and  sense,  are  patterns  of  things 
in  the  heavens.  We  are  not  only  destined  for  an 
eternal  life,  but  we  are  in  the  midst  of  it,  in  so  far  as 
we  realize  a  spiritual  existence,  and  the  symbols  and 
shadows  of  it  are  pressing  in  upon  us  every  day  in 
these  works  of  God  which  are  not  dead  works,  but 
to  a  true  eye,  spirit  and  life.  And  as  God's  sun  and 
cloud  in  the  world  around  us  are  not  at  variance, 
neither  are  the  gladness  that  lies  in  the  light  of  his 
gospel,  and  the  trouble  that  may  come  from  the  con- 
victions of  his  Spirit. 

We  remark,  last  of  all,  that  Christ's  coming  in  his 
gospel  and  Spirit  may  be  separate  for  a  while,  but 
they  tend  to  a  final  and  perfect  union.  They  are  in- 
dispensable to  each  other.  The  sun  may  come  and 
beat  upon  the  earth,  but  it  will  make  it  only  parched 
and  dead  without  the  rain.  No  more  can  the  clearest 
shining  of  the  gospel  save  the  soul  or  comfort  it 
without  the  Holy  Spirit.  Or  again,  the  rain  might 
come  without  the  sunlight.  The  dew  might  lie  all 
night  long  on  the  brandies,  but  there  will  be  no  life 
nor  gladness  till  the  morning  comes  to  change  sor- 
row into  joy,  to  brighten    dewdrops  into  sparks  of 


CHRIST  THE  DAY-DAWN  AND  THE  RAIN.  23 

sunlight,  and  scatter  them  over  all  the  boughs  till 
they  break  out  into  the  green  of  leaves  and  the  hues 
of  blossoms.  No  more  could  the  sorrows  of  a  broken 
heart  and  the  convictions  of  the  conscience  give  the 
Christian  life,  and  its  flower  and  fruit,  without  the 
presence  of  Christ  in  the  gospel  of  his  grace.  The 
gospel  without  the  Spirit,  would  be  the  sun  shining 
on  a  waterless  waste.  The  Spirit  without  the  gospel, 
would  be  the  rain  falling  in  a  starless  night.  Blessed 
be  the  Lord  God,  who  hath  showed  us  light,  who 
hath  sent  us  also  rain  from  heaven,  and  fruitful  sea- 
sons filling  our  hearts  with  food  and  gladness ! 

There  are  some  Christians  to  whom  Christ  is  pres- 
ent more  in  the  cloud.  His  Spirit  works  in  them  by 
conviction  of  sin  and  depressing  views  of  themselves, 
but  they  have  only  a  small  portion  of  the  sunlight 
and  the  joy.  What  they  need  is  to  keep  before  them 
the  clear,  simple  view  of  Christ  in  the  gospel,  doing 
all,  suffering  all,  and  leaving  us  only  to  receive 
with  thankful  hearts,  —  becoming  all  our  salvation, 
that  he  may  be  all  our  desire.  There  are  others  who 
have  a  very  distinct  perception  of  the  gospel  in  its 
freeness  and  fulness,  but  they  have  ceased  to  derive 
from  it  the  comfort  they  once  enjoyed.  They  need 
the  rain.  They  have  been  too  neglectful  of  the  secret 
life  of  religion,  which  is  its  soul.  They  have  been, 
if  not  falling  into  habitual  sin,  yet  treading  only  the 
hard  round  of  some  outward  duties,  and  avoiding 
communion  of  soul  with  God.  This  is  to  grieve  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  so  to  lose  his  seal.  What  these  need 
is,  more  earnest  prayer  for  his  refreshing  influences, 
and  a  heart  open  to  welcome  them  and  use  them :  "  I 


24  CHRIST  THE  DAY-DAWN  AND  THE  RAIN. 

will  be  as  the  dew  unto  Israel ;  and  they  shall  revive 
as  the  corn,  and  grow  as  the  vine."  Our  souls  can 
only  live  and  grow  when  the  sun  and  the  showers  in- 
termingle ;  when  the  Spirit's  dew  conies  by  night, 
and  the  gospel  brings  in  the  day.  Then  it  shall  be 
with  us  as  "  the  light  of  the  morning  when  the  sun 
ariscth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds ;  as  the  ten- 
der grass  springeth  out  of  the  earth,  by  the  clear 
shining  after  rain. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  with  all  this,  that  there 
are  those  who  know  Christ  neither  as  the  morning 
nor  the  rain,  who  have  been  resisting  alike  invitation 
and  conviction.  It  is  possible  to  be  in  the  midst  of 
light  and  remain  blind,  to  have  the  dews  of  God  fall- 
ing thick  and  free,  and  to  continue  in  the  centre  of 
them  parched  and  dry.  It  is  well  to  think  of  another 
appearance  which  is  as  sure  as  this.  He  who  visits 
us  now  as  the  morning  shall  come  as  the  consuming 
fire ;  and  who  may  abide  that  day  of  his  coming  ? 
He  who  makes  his  descent  now  like  the  rain,  shall  cause 
it  to  be  as  "  the  storm  that  shall  sweep  away  the 
refuges  of  lies,  and  as  the  waters  that  shall  overflow 
the  hiding-place."  This  coming  is  also  prepared,  as 
sure  as  sunrise,  fixed  as  the  great  ordinances  of 
heaven,  which  approach  us  with  incessant  and  silent 
steps  when  we  think  not  of  them.  How  dreadful  to 
have  the  brightness  of  his  coming  flash  upon  our  sins 
till  we  cry  to  mountains  and  rocks  to  hide  us !  Pre- 
pare to  meet  thy  God !  and  may  he  himself  prepare 
us  by  inclining  our  souls  now  to  open  to  that  Saviour 
who  has  long  been  visiting  us,  morning  by  morning, 
that  we  may  be  ready  to  welcome  his  final  appearance 


CHRIST  THE  DAY-DAWN   AND  THE  RAIN. 


25 


as  the  end  of  all  our  sorrows,  the  sum  of  all  our 
hopes,  and  the  dawn  of  an  everlasting  and  ever 
blessed  day. 


II. 


§)imi  and  \\w  Monk. 


Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  Aim,  If  a  man  love  Me,  he  -will 
keep  my  words."  —  John  xiv.  23. 


this  very  significant  verse  there  is  a  twofold 
love  spoken  of,  with  the  consequence  that 
*ev  flows  from  each.  There  is  the  love  of  man 
to  Christ  and  its  result,  and  then  the  love  of  the  Fa- 
ther to  the  lover  of  Christ,  with  its  corresponding  re- 
sult. Either  of  these  is  more  than  enough  for  one 
subject  of  discourse,  and  we  select  at  present  the 
former  —  the  love  of  man  to  Christ,  and  its  effect. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  occupying  much  time  in 
explaining  terms.  "  To  love  Christ  "  is  to  have  the 
heart  go  forth  to  him  when,  in  his  wonderful  life,  and 
still  more  wonderful  death,  he  has  become  the  ob- 
ject of  faith  to  the  soul.  It  is  love  not  to  an  abstrac- 
tion, but  to  a  great  living  personality  —  "  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  "  —  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh."  "  To 
keep  his  words  "  is  not  merely  to  preserve  them  in 
the  memory,  but  to  put  them  into  the  heart,  and, 
deeper  still,  into  the  conscience,  and  then  to  let  them 

(26) 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  27 

come  forth  in  the  life  as  visible  and  practical  things, 
just  as  seed,  if  put  into  the  right  soil,  will,  by  God's 
ordinance  and  through  his  blessing,  spring  up  into 
blade  and  flower  and  fruit.  Of  all  this  we  cannot 
now  treat,  for  the  subject  is  as  large  as  practical 
Christianity,  and  we  confine  our  attention  to  two 
things  :  the  connection  between  Christ  and  his  words, 
and  the  connection  between  loving  Christ  and  keep- 
ing his  words. 

The  first  thing  to  be  considered  here  is  the  connec- 
tion between  Christ  and  his  words.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark  that  Christ  himself  sets  these  two  objects  dis- 
tinctly before  us,  as  standing  over  against  each  other, 
separate  and  yet  related.  We  must  fix  our  eye  atten- 
tively on  them  ;  and  this  leads  us  to  observe  that 
Christ  and  his  words  are  both  very  fully  made  known 
to  us.  This  is  not  always  the  case  with  those  whose 
names  have  gone  far  and  wide  among  men  as  teachers 
of  the  race.  Sometimes  we  may  have  a  great  person- 
ality who  has  stirred  his  own  and  subsequent  genera- 
tions, and  given  a  mighty  impulse  to  the  world,  but 
we  have  few  or  none  of  his  words.  That  there  was 
immense  power  in  him,  we  cannot  doubt,  but  it  is 
impossible  for  us  rightly  to  estimate  it.  Its  secret 
has  died  with  the  man.  He  himself  stands  there, 
looming  grandly  in  the  distance  ;  but  he  stands  mute. 
We  listen  eagerly  across  the  breadth  of  centuries, 
but  there  is  no  voice,  or,  at  most,  a  few  broken 
echoes  that  have  come  down  by  a  seeming  accident. 
Many  such  are  found  in  the  Gentile  world,  eminent 
evidently  in  their  day,  among  crowds  of  admiring 
disciples  ;  but  the  source  of  their  strength  is  dead 


28  CBRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

like  themselves.  The  name  of  Pythagoras  rises  as 
one  of  these, — great,  and  yet  we  scarcely  know  why. 
In  the  Bible  history  there  are  also  many  such. 
Noah,  the  preacher  of  righteousness,  is  one  of  them, 
and  "  Enoch,  the  seventh  from  Adam,  who  prophe- 
sied," is  well-nigh  another,  but  for  the  floating  frag- 
ment, like  "  a  wandering  voice,"  on  which  an  apostle 
has  set  the  seal  of  verity.  Such,  also,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, is  Abraham.  He  rises,  a  grand  and  venerable 
figure  in  the  dim  past,  in  the  gray  morning  of  the 
Church's  history  ;  but  there  are  few  utterances  from 
him,  and  his  life  speaks  to  us  only  because  Christ 
shines  back  on  it :  "  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day, 
and  he  saw  it,  and  was  glad."  He  may  be  compared 
to  that  statue  of  the  Egyptian  Memnon,  dumb 
through  the  dark  night,  and  uttering  a  sound  only 
when  the  rising  sun  touches  him  with  his  rays. 

Or,  on  the  other  hand,  we  may  have  great  and  no- 
ble words  from  a  man,  but  we  may  know  little  of  his 
personality.  How  much  of  fire  and  passion  there  is 
in  the  greatest  poet  of  Greece,  how  much  of  human 
wisdom  and  the  experience  of  life  in  the  greatest  poet 
of  England,  and  yet  how  little  we  know  of  their  his- 
tory to  enable  us  to  see  how  they  became  what  they 
were,  or  to  let  us  read  their  words  by  the  light  of 
their  life !  There  are  thoughts  and  aspirations  in 
Plato,  perhaps  the  most  marvellous  in  any  man  un- 
inspired ;  but  how  dim  a  view  we  have  of  the  path 
along  which  he  moved  in  the  midst  of  his  contempora- 
ries !  To  come  again  to  Scripture,  what  glorious  ut- 
terances we  have  from  Isaiah,  to  elevate  and  warm 
even  the  Christian  heart,  while  he  looks  all  down  the 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  29 

ages  to  the  grand  consummation  of  the  church  and 
world  ;  and  yet  what  do  we  know  of  himself?  And 
many  of  those  prophets  whose  words  have  descended 
to  us  as  the  most  precious  legacy  of  the  ancient  dis- 
pensation, when  "  they  spoke  of  the  sufferings  of 
Christ,  and  the  glory  that  should  follow,*'  have  dis- 
appeared in  their  theme  like  the  lark  in  the  sunlight 
which  it  sings. 

But  in  Christ  both  the  personality  and  the  words 
have  been  brought  out  into  the  clearest  and  fullest 
illumination.  It  is  evident  that  in  the  plan  of  God 
both  of  them  were  meant  to  be  of  supreme  value  to 
man.  The  inspiring  Spirit  has  been  careful  to 
breathe  them  side  by  side  into  the  sacred  record,  and 
Divine  Providence  has  preserved  them  from  age  to 
age,  that  all  men  may  look  on  and  listen  to  these 
two  —  the  person  and  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ. 

We  have  not  only  the  words  of  his  inspired  apos- 
tles, which  are  in  the  truest  sense  Christ's,  but  we 
have  his  own  personally  uttered  words.  We  would 
have  felt  unsatisfied  unless  we  had  heard  the  law  of 
love  from  his  own  lips,  the  very  thoughts  that 
breathed,  and  the  very  words  that  burned  when  the 
divine  Wisdom  spoke,  and  our  wish  is  met.  The  re- 
cording witnesses  have  been  so  minute,  so  loving,  in 
giving  us  the  scene,  the  incidents,  the  very  looks,  that 
the  living  fragrance  is  still  in  the  utterances,  and  the 
dew  of  youth  upon  them,  and  we  can  sit  down  with 
his  disciples  on  the  hill,  or  by  the  lake,  or  in  the 
house,  and  listen  to  the  great  Teacher,  as  if  he  were 
in  the  midst  of  us,  while  we  wonder  at  the  gracious 
words  that  proceed  out  of  his  mouth,  and  set  them 


30  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

above  all   other  words  beside.     "  Never  man  spake 
like  this  man." 

And  with  the  words,  God  has  been  pleased  to  give 
ns  the  life,  as  never  a  life  was  given,  by  those  four, 
each  different,  yet  each  the  same  ;  a  separate  mirror 
to  take  in  the  side  presented  to  it,  but  all  disclosing 
in  life-like  harmony  the  one  grand  person,  each  so  ab- 
sorbed in  his  theme  that  he  himself  is  forgotten,  his 
personality  lost  in  the  object,  —  all  eye,  all  ear,  all 
heart  for  Christ  alone.  If  this  were  not  divine,  we 
might  say  that  it  is  the  perfection  of  biography ;  it 
makes  the  historian  nothing ;  it  makes  him  he  looks 
at  all  in  all,  and  it  puts  every  one  of  us  where  the 
witness  himself  stood,  and  lets  us  take  in  the  great 
life  as  he  did.  It  is  one  testimony  to  the  greatness 
of  the  life  that  it  so  burned  and  fused  itself  into  these 
men  that  they  can  do  nothing  but  reflect  it  again, 
with  this  unconsciousness  which  is  higher  than  the 
highest  art.  There  was  inspiration  guiding  them, 
true,  but  this  inspiration  took,  as  its  most  powerful 
instrument,  the  overmastering  might  of  that  wonder- 
ful personality.  When  we  look  to  it  there,  it  stands 
so  grand  and  godlike  in  its  outline,  so  minute  and 
human  in  its  details.  It  seems  marvellous  to  us 
when  we  reflect  how  these  little  touches  never  bring- 
down the  grandeur  of  the  whole,  that  his  person  there 
presented  should  be  so  lofty,  above  all  men's  previous 
thoughts  of  loftiness,  and  yet  so  near  us,  so  accessible, 
so  simply  human.  It  is  for  this,  without  doubt,  that 
we  have  glimpses  into  his  infancy  and  youth,  that  we 
may  know  him  to  carry  the  heart  of  a  child  of  hu- 
manity all  through  ;  for  this  that  he  is  brought  into 


CHRIST  ^ND  HIS  WORDS.  81 

contact  with  the  most  varied  relations  of  man's  life, 
mingling  with  and  hallowing  them.  We  become 
acquainted  with  him  not  only  in  the  great  congrega- 
tion, but  in  the  house  of  Bethany,  at  the  marriage 
and  at  the  funeral.  He  speaks  words  of  wisdom 
which  the  wisest  men  have  not  yet  measured,  and  he 
takes  children  in  his  arms.  When  he  is  dying,  and 
completing  that  grandest  work  of  man's  redemption, 
we  behold  his  heart  opening  on  every  side  to  let  us 
see  what  is  in  it,  —  to  his  mother,  to  his  friends,  to 
the  dying  criminal  by  his  side,  to  his  persecutors,  to 
his  Father  ;  and,  when  he  rises  to  occupy  his  throne 
in  heaven,  we  see  his  human  heart  then  in  the  last 
look  we  have  of  him  as  he  turns  round  with  out- 
stretched arms  to  bless  those  he  leaves  behind. 
There  is  no  life  we  know  so  well  as  that  life  which  it 
concerns  us  most  of  all  to  know,  no  personality  to 
which  we  can  come  so  close  as  the  greatest  personali- 
ty that  ever  appeared  on  earth.  Our  dearest  friends 
have  a  curtain  that  they  draw  between  a  part  of  their 
nature  and  us.  It  is  right  they  should;  for  the 
utmost  personality  is  for  G-od  alone.  Sometimes  we 
feel  as  if  we  had  not  fathomed  our  own  souls.  A 
gulf  opens  up  which  we  had  not  suspected,  that 
makes  us  start  back  as  from  the  chasm  of  an  earth- 
quake. But  we  know  and  feel  that  we  can  touch  the 
inmost  life  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  has  nothing  to  con- 
ceal ;  and  whatever  of  the  wonderful  may  grow  up 
for  our  admiration,  nothing  strange  can  start  forth  to 
affright  us.  It  has  been  so  ordered  of  God,  because 
our  own  soul  and  life  are  to  rest  on  him.  He  is  to  be 
more  to  us,  for  security  and  peace  than  any  friend,  — 
more  to  us  than  we  are  to  ourselves. 


32  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

The  words  of  Christ,  then,  and  Christ  himself,  are 
both  fully  made  known  to  us.  It  is  necessary  it 
should  be  so.  The  gospel  has  its  expression  injiis 
words,  but  its  power  and  spirit  are  in  his  life.  He  is 
himself  the  "  Word  made  flesh,"  —  the  greatest  ut- 
terance in  the  greatest  person  ;  and  the  language  of 
his  apostles  is  "  What  we  have  seen  and  heard  de- 
clare we  unto  you,  that  ye  may  have  fellowship  with 
us." 

There  is  this  further  to  be  observed,  that  as  they 
are  made  known  to  us,  there  is  a  perfect  harmony 
between  Christ  and  his  words.  It  is  implied  in  this 
saying  of  our  Lord  that  he  and  his  words  are  in 
agreement,  else  they  could  not  co-exist  and  coalesce 
as  he  says  they  must  do.  This  is  not  always  the  case 
with  a  man  and  his  words.  Sometimes  we  can  love 
and  esteem  a  man,  and  yet  we  cannot  keep  his  words. 
Our  hearts  are  drawn  to  him  with  strong  affection  as 
amiable  and  generous;  but  there  is  a  strange  and 
painful  revulsion  when  we  come  to  his  utterances. 
They  carry  neither  conviction  to  the  understanding 
nor  moving  power  to  the  soul.  Or,  again,  we  may 
admire  and  approve  the  words,  but  we  cannot  love 
and  esteem  the  man.  All  that  comes  from  him  may 
be  stamped  with  wisdom  and  lighted  up  with  a  per- 
ception of  the  noble  and  elevated,  but  the  man  him- 
self is  hard  and  unsympathetic,  or  feeble  in  moral 
resolve.  It  is  with  pain  that  we  turn  from  the  words 
of  Bacon  to  his  life,  and  from  the  scorn  of  worldly 
ambition,  by  the  author  of  the  "Night  Thoughts,"  to 
his  eager  pursuit  of  it  in  courtly  circles.  One  of  the 
most  melancholy  contrasts  is  between   the  words  of 


CHRIST  AND   HIS  WORDS.  33 

the  wisest  of  men  and  the  exemplification  which  l\e 
himself  gave  of  wisdom.  How  different  when  we 
come  to  Christ !  Our  deepest  moral  nature  sets  the 
seal  of  approval  on  his  words.  "  The  words  of  the 
Lord  are  pure  words,  as  silver  tried  in  a  furnace  of 
earth,  purified  seven  times,"  and  our  emotional  na- 
ture is  drawn  to  himself  with  the  strongest  love  and 
reverence.  "  He  is  the  chief  among  ten  thousand, 
and  altogether  lovely."  We  can  take  his  words  and 
himself  and  set  them  side  by  side,  and  interweave 
them,  like  music,  with  thought  in  perfect  harmony. 
"  Thou  art  fairer  than  the  children  of  men ;  grace  is 
poured  into  thy  lips,  therefore  God  hath  blessed  thee 
forever."  When  he  inculcates  humility,  he  himself 
"  is  among  the  disciples  as  one  that  serveth."  When 
he  speaks  of  purity,  "  He  did  no  sin,  neither  was 
guile  found  in  his  mouth."  When  he  urges  the  law 
of  kindness,  "  he  goes  about  doing  good."  When  he 
asks  us  to  make  sacrifice  for  others,  he  dies  on  a  cross 
for  his  enemies.  There  are  many  who  praise  the  no- 
ble morality  of  Christ,  but  they  fail  to  observe  suffi- 
ciently the  personality  which  illuminates  and  glori- 
fies it,  which  makes  it  sparkle  and  glow  with  innu- 
merable lights  like  those  of  the  firmament,  and  which 
gives  it,  like  his  love,  "  a  height  and  depth,  a  length 
and  breadth,  that  passes  knowledge." 

While  the  words  and  life  are  in  harmony,  it  is  yet 
true  that  the  life  is  greater  than  the  words,  and,  in- 
deed, this  is  necessary  to  full  harmony  in  any  really 
grand  character.  A  man  should  always  be  more 
than  his  expression.  We  feel  when  we  are  in  contact 
with  some  men,  that  there  is  a  reserve  of  power  be- 


34  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

hind  their  highest  utterances,  that  whatever  they  may 
say  or  do,  they  are  capable  of  something  above  it,  and 
that  no  outcome  of  their  strength  enables  us  to  feel 
we  have  measured  their  mind.  This  is  pre-eminently 
true  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  What  the  poet  says 
of  his  victory  over  the  apostate  spirits  in  heaven,  is 
true  of  every  manifestation  he  gave  on  this  earth  ; 
"  yet  half  his  strength  he  put  not  forth."  The  people 
felt  it  when,  it  is  said,  they  heard  him  speak  "  as  one 
having  authority  :  "  and  we  feel  it  still  when  we  come 
not  to  the  words,  but  to  him  through  them.  It  is  not 
that  he  puts  life  into  them,  but  that  the  life  in  them 
is  felt  to  come  from  a  life  beyond  them  in  himself. 
He  gives  drink  "  as  out  of  great  depths."  We  rise  to 
the  understanding  of  his  own  climax  —  "the  way, 
the  truth,  the  life,"  —  and  know  what  a  different 
book  the  gospel  record  would  have  been,  if,  in  some 
abstract  way,  all  the  sayings  of  it  had  been  preserved, 
and  the  grand  Presence,  which  floods  it  with  light  and 
life,  blotted  out. 

Now,  this  superiority  of  the  person  of  Christ  to  his 
words,  great  as  they  are,  is  not,  as  we  have  remarked, 
destructive  of  harmony  ;  it  is  the  highest  reach  of  it. 
In  all  things  that  perfectly  agree,  there  must  be  a 
great  and  a  greater,  in  some  such  way  as  God  agrees 
with  his  universe,  which  is  his  expression  of  himself, 
while  yet  he  remains  in  an  infinite  behind  it,  making 
it,  in  the  language  of  the  Bible,  "  the  hiding  of  his 
power."  It  is  one  of  the  most  important  steps  a  man 
can  take  in  his  spiritual  history,  when  he  passes  from 
listening  to  the  sayings,  to  looking  up  into  the  face  of 
the  person  of  Christ,  and  learns  that   the  words  are 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  35 

only  rays  from  the  countenance  of  the  "  Eternal  life," 
the  natural  breathings  from  him  who  is  "  the  Word 
made  flesh."  It  is  like  passing  from  report  to  reality, 
from  Christ's  echoes  to  the  living  Christ,  and  can  be 
expressed  in  the  manner  of  those  Samaritans,  "  Now 
we  believe,  not  because  of  thy  saying,  but  because  we 
ourselves  have  seen  him,  and  know  that  this  is,  in- 
deed, the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  world ; "  or,  in 
that  of  the  beloved  disciple,  "  He  dwelt  among  us 
(and  we  beheld  his  glory,  —  the  glory  as  of  the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father),  full  of  grace  and  truth." 

We  come  now  to  the  second  thing  to  be  considered, 
—  the  connection  between  loving  Christ  and  keeping 
his  words.  And  we  remark,  that  the  way  in  which 
our  Lord  states  this,  brings  before  us  the  central  truth 
of  Christian  doctrine,  namely,  that,  in  some  way,  there 
must  be  a  change  of  heart  before  there  is  a  change  of 
life.  We  must  begin  to  love  Christ  before  we  can 
keep  his  words.  Christ  is  the  law-giver  of  God's 
world,  and  before  we  can  obey  his  laws  we  must  be  on 
terms  of  amity  with  himself.  This  implies  that  we 
know  him  to  be  at  peace  with  us,  for  as  we  are  made, 
we  cannot  love  where  we  dread.  God's  friendship 
must  come  before  God's  service.  Now,  the  very  op- 
posite of  this  is  frequently  taught,  —  that  there  is  to 
be  service  before  there  can  be  friendship,  and  that 
peace  can  only  be  purchased  by  obedience.  We  need 
not  so  much  consult  the  Bible  to  see  the  falsehood  of 
this,  as  look  into  our  own  hearts,  where  we  may  feel  the 
impossibility  of  doing  anything  that  will  bear  the  look 
of  service,  in  a  spiritual  sense,  until  the  heart  is  in  it. 


36  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

But  there  comes  in  here  a  view  which  admits  this, 
which  dwells  upon  it  very  strongly  and  beautifully, 
and  which  has  done  much  to  bring  out  the  value  of 
the  personality  of  Christ  in  its  bearing  on  our  service. 
It  shows  how  he  creates  a  new  power  in  the  soul,  not 
by  his  example,   merely,  but  by  his   whole    being, — 
not  simply  by  teaching  us  and  moving  before  us,  — 
but  by,  in   a    manner,  transfusing   himself  unto   us. 
This  would  be  all  right,  if  it  did  not  say,  or  imply 
without  saying  it,  that  this  is  all.       The  true  view 
includes  this    and  much    more,  for    truth  takes    in 
all  that  is  true  in   error.    The  vital  deficiency  in  this 
partial    representation   is   that  there  is  no   sufficient 
note  taken  of  sin.     It  passes  over   the  whole  of  this 
part  of  the  question  with    a   casual   reference,  or  a 
hazy  indistinctness.     Sometimes  it  seeks  to  depreciate 
the  Epistles  which  bring  out  so  forcibly  the  contrasts 
of  guilt  and  atonement,  and   hints  at  a    Christianity 
which  would  be  purer  if  it  were  confined  entirely  to 
Christ  himself,  as  if  a   man  should  say  that  he  pre- 
ferred the  sun  to  his   beams,   and  proposed,  for  the 
sake  of  simplicity,  that  his  radiance   should  be  con- 
fined to  his  disk.     But,  apart  from  this,  the  view  we 
refer  to  does  not  enter  into  the  central  power  of  either 
the  words  or  the  life  of  Christ.     He   himself  speaks, 
all  through,  of  sin  and  salvation,  as   strongly  as  the 
Epistles.     The   lost  sheep,    the    prodigal   son  in  his 
alienation  and  misery,  and  the  toil  and  pain  of  recov- 
ery, what  are  these  but  his  way  of  putting  before  us 
guilt  and  redemption  ?     The  love  borne  to  his  person, 
he  emphatically  tells  us,  is  in  proportion  to  the  sense 
of  forgiveness.     Little  love  where  there  is  little  sense 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  37 

of  sin  and  pardon;  abounding  love  where  this  has 
taken  possession  of  the  soul.  It  fails  to  take  in  the 
greatness  of  Christ's  person.  It  may  hold  a  divinity 
in  him  as  long  as  the  warmth  of  old  views  linger  in 
its  veins  ;  but  his  person  must  fall  as  his  work  fades, 
and  at  last  sink  to  a  bare  humanity.  His  agony 
ceases  to  have  any  meaning  ;  his  darkness  of  soul  loses 
its  mystery  ;  his  cry  no  more  shakes  the  heart ;  his 
cross  awakens  no  burning  fire  ;  and  the  love  of  Christ, 
shrinking  from  its  shoreless  length  and  breadth,  is  still 
more  robbed  of  the  height  and  depth  which  have  given 
it,  and  always  will,  its  power  over  the  soul  of  man. 

Irreconcilable  with  the  letter  and  spirit  of  Christ's 
own  teaching  and  life,  this  view  fails  to  deal  fully  with 
the  problem  of  man's  nature,  which  demands  a  solu- 
tion. We  have  to  decide  this,  not  by  single  instances 
of  pure  and  self-denying  lives,  which  will  appear  in  the 
most  opposite  systems,  but  by  what  the  mass  of  hu- 
manity require  in  all  time,  and  in  every  possible  ex- 
tremity. No  remedy  is  sufficient  which  does  not 
touch  the  worst  case.  Whatever  system  does  not 
answer  the  deepest  cry  of  an  awakened  conscience, 
cannot  long  retain  the  homage  of  the  heart,  and  loses 
its  power  to  regenerate  the  life.  It  is  no  undue  as- 
sertion to  say  that  the  system  commonly  known  as 
evangelical,  has  been  tested  over  a  breadth  of  field, 
and  at  an  intensity  of  strain  that  the  other  cannot  lay 
claim  to.  That  other  may  look  well  oftentimes  as  a 
picture,  but  it  has  yet  to  be  proved  that  it  will  not 
break  down  under  the  hard  stress  of  the  real  world, 
the  stern  requisitions  of  duty,  the  assault  of  tempta- 
tions, the  fierce  outbursts  of  passion  and,  worse  than 


38  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

all  these,  the  slow,  insidious  corrosion  of  a  fallen  na- 
ture. Let  us  take  but  one  word  of  Christ,  "  If  any 
man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and 
take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me  ;  "  (Luke  ix.  23) 
and  if  we  consider  what  it  means  we  shall  feel  that 
the  strongest  motive  that  can  help  a  man  to  aim  at 
the  steady  observance  of  this,  is  the  view  of  Christ 
himself  bearing  his  own  cross,  till,  lifted -up  on  it,  he 
bears  our  sin.  This,  at  least,  we  can  affirm,  that,  in 
past  times,  when  other  lines  of  battle  have  been 
pierced  through  and  utterly  broken,  it  was  falling 
back  on  this  reserve  which  gained  the  victory. 

Now,  that  Christ  should  here  lay  down  love  to  him- 
self as  the  foundation  of  all  our  fidelity  to  him,  does 
not,  indeed,  of  itself,  prove  his  atonement ;  but  it  is 
in  the  firmest  bond  of  union  with  it,  and  taken  in 
connection  with  all  his  teaching  and  life  and  death,  it 
receives  a  power  of  meaning  which  no  other  view  of 
Christ  can  give  to  it.  Love  to  him  can  face  every 
duty  and  dare  every  danger  and  endure  every  sacri- 
fice, when  it  sees  him  filling  the  universe  from  the 
throne  of  heaven  to  the  grave  of  earth,  with  self-sac- 
rifice for  man,  and  self-sacrifice  to  save  him  from  the 
most  terrible  of  all  evils,  exclusion  from  the  favor  and 
life  of  the  God  who  made  him.  Less  than  this  cannot 
explain  either  the  Epistles  or  Gospels,  neither  can  it, 
in  the  last  extremity,  bear  the  weight  of  what  Christ 
requires  of  those  who  own  his  allegiance. 

We  remark,  next,  that  the  connection  between  lov- 
ing Christ,  and  keeping  his  words  brings  before  us 
the  Christian  philosophy  of  morality.  As  Christians, 
we  believe  that  the  morality  of  Christianity  is  supe- 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  39 

rior  to  any  other  in  the  kind  of  duties  it  gives  promi- 
nence to,  and  the  light  in  which  it  presents  them  ; 
and  candid  men,  who  profess  to  stand  outside,  general- 
ly admit  this.  But  what  is  often  overlooked  is  that 
the  superiority  of  Christian  morality  does  not  consist 
so  much  in  these  details,  as  in  its  central  principle  of 
action.  It  lies  much  more  in  its  moving  power  than 
in  its  mechanism.  There  is  no  system  but  Christian- 
ity that  has  gathered  all  the  grand  motives  to  morality 
round  a  person,  and  made  the  strength  and  essence 
of  them  spring  from  love  to  him.  The  ancient  Gen- 
tile teachers  had,  no  doubt,  a  personal  influence  over 
their  disciples ;  but  they  constantly  pointed  to  duty, 
as  something  apart  from  themselves,  and  founded  its 
claims  on  its  inherent  fitness  or  Tightness.  In  the 
Old  Testament  there  is  a  foreshadowing  of  the  Chris- 
tian principle  in  God  descending  into  personal  rela- 
tions to  men,  saving  and  blessing  them,  and  found- 
ing on  this  a  claim  to  obedience.  "  I  am  the  Lord 
thy  God  that  brought  thee  forth  out  of  the  land  of 
Egypt :  Keep  my  precepts."  In  the  Christian  mor- 
ality, this  is  the  one  grand  motive,  love  to  the  person 
of  Christ,  flowing  out  into  submission  to  his  will. 
He  himself  puts  it  thus,  and  so  does  all  the  New  Tes- 
tament. 

There  would  be  a  fatal  objection  to  this,  if  He  were 
either  less  than  he  is,  or  if  he  had  done  less  for  man 
than  he  has  done.  If  he  were  less  than  God,  his 
claim  of  implicit  obedience  would  be  impious  ;  and  if 
he  had  done  less  for  man  than  save  him  from  the 
lowest  depth,  he  could  not  require  all  his  nature  to  be 
given  up  to  him.     But  here,  again,  the  morality  of 


40  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

the  gospel  is  seen  to  be  closely  connected  with  its 
doctrines.  The  divinity  of  Christ  forbids  the  charge 
of  assumption  on  his  part,  and  his  atonement  prevents 
the  feeling  that  there  is  over-exaction  from  us.  No 
other  view  will  make  Christian  morality  and  doctrine 
cohere.  When  we  take  this  view,  the  morality  all 
centres  most  fitly  in  obedience  to  Christ,  because  he 
is  all  in  all  to  the  soul,  its  Lord  and  God,  and  be- 
cause he  has  conferred  on  it  the  infinite  and  eternal 
benefit  of  deliverance  from  sin.  Then  the  Christian 
morality  rises  into  a  clearness,  a  consistency,  and 
grandeur  worthy  of  a  divine  revelation.  The  great 
God,  from  whose  life  and  likeness  his  intelligent  crea- 
ture, man,  has  fallen  away,  restores  him  to  obedience 
by  leaving  the  throne  of  judgment,  and  coming  down 
to  him  as  a  Friend  and  Saviour.  In  the  successive 
ages  of  a  preparatory  system,  he  descends,  step  by 
step,  into  closer  relations  of  alliance,  clothes  himself 
with  personal  attributes,  and  binds  men  to  himself  by 
personal  ties,  until  he  reaches  the  lowest  step,  which 
is  also  the  highest,  for  lowest  condescension  is  highest 
love.  He  becomes  one  with  men,  in  nature,  in  history, 
through  life,  and  through  death  (deepest  mystery  of 
all !)  ;  becomes  one  with  them  in  his  becoming  sin, 
that  he  may  establish  the  claim  of  love,  which  makes 
him  Lord  and  Legislator  on  a  new  ground,  that  he 
may  qualify  himself  for  creating  obedience  by  attrac- 
tion, instead  of  commanding  it  by  law.  The  supreme 
Governor  changes  his  throne,  or,  to  speak  more  cor- 
rectly, returns  to  it  in  a  new  and  higher  relation  ;  and 
the  moral  homage  of  his  human  creatures,  and,  as  we 
believe,  of  all  his  intelligent  universe,  gathers  round 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS.  41 

him  in  Christ,  —  love  saving  moral  order,  or,  as  the 
Old  Testament  expresses  it,  "  mercy  embracing 
truth." 

This  we  understand  to  be  our  Lord's  teaching  of 
morality  and  that  of  his  apostles,  and  to  be  something 
not  only  larger  than  any  other  morality,  but  in  its 
principle  altogether  different.  Those  who  have  stud- 
ied it  at  all  are  aware  that  it  is  from  this  princi- 
ple it  derives  its  power  ;  and  that  those  men  who 
speak  of  detaching  the  gospel  morality  from  the 
gospel  doctrine,  are  as  rational  as  the  men  who  would 
pluck  a  blossom  from  a  tree,  and  think  to  have  it 
come  to  fruit. 

There  are  only  three  conceivable  ways  in  which 
morality  can  be  thought  of  as  springing  up  in  man. 
The  first  is  by  something  like  an  instinct,  and  that 
this  does  exist  in  man  we  are  far  from  denying.  But 
how  feeble,  how  fluctuating,  how  contradictory  it  is 
when  left  to  itself,  we  have  only  to  look  abroad  on 
the  world  to  see.  If  it  were  perfect  in  all  its  parts  on 
any  such  principle,  morality  by  instinct  would  be 
morality  mechanical.  The  second  way  is  by  reason, 
and  that  reason  can  do  much  for  morality  must  also 
be  admitted.  It  can  trace  it  to  the  source  of  right, 
see  it  to  be  fit,  and  branch  it  out  in  its  details  ;  but  it 
can  never  furnish  it  with  sufficient  motive  power ;  it 
becomes  weakest  when  passion  is  strongest ;  it  can 
fall  back  only  on  one  part  of  our  nature,  and  that  the 
hardest,  the  practical  understanding.  Hence,  reason 
in  morality  is  much  more  a  thing  for  the  philosopher 
in  his  closet  than  for  the  mass  of  men  in  the  struggle 
and  strain  of  life.     The  only  third  way  is  an  appeal 


42  CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 

to  love,  and  love  going  forth  to  a  person.  It  is  this 
way  that  Christianity  has  chosen.  It  sets  before  men 
the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  noblest  and  most  beautiful 
in  itself,  and  infinitely  attractive  in  its  self-sacrifice 
for  them.  To  love  him  is  an  impulse  of  the  heart, 
and  this  impulse  is  the  spring  of  all  morality.  This 
can  touch  all  men  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  from 
the  philosopher  to  the  child.  It  does  not  exclude 
reason  in  morality,  for  Christ,  while  drawing  morality 
round  his  person,  appeals  to  its  fitness,  and  urges  its 
right.  He  does  not  even  neglect  its  instincts.  By 
his  spiritual  quickening  he  develops  these,  and  fur- 
nishes them  with  the  highest  object.  He  raises  mor- 
ality up  to  a  new  and  loftier  instinct,  which  does  not 
rob  it  of  freedom,  making  it  the  outflow  of  the  new 
nature  which  he  creates  within.  And  then,  finally, 
all  this  morality  is  found  to  rest,  not  in  homage  to  a 
created  intelligence,  either  within  or  without  us,  but 
in  submission  to  the  highest  personality,  the  supreme 
God,  out  of  love,  and  in  the  sharing  of  his  life  and 
likeness.  To  enter  in  any  way  into  the  conception  of 
these  truths  is  to  perceive  signs  of  their  divine  origin. 
If,  then,  we  would  be  partakers  of  this  noble  Chris- 
tian morality,  the  true  way,  the  only  way,  is  to  come 
closer  to  the  person  of  Christ  as  set  before  us  in  God's 
word,  looking  on  him,  and  learning  to  love  him. 
The  Christian  character  is  not  built  up  like  a  cold 
and  lifeless  column,  stone  by  stone,  it  grows  like  a 
tree  from  within,  and  its  root  is  love  to  Christ.  Love 
will  be  the  interpreter  of  all  his  words.  We  can 
read  doubtful  meanings  and  solve  the  casuistries  of 
duty,  when  we  look  through  the  eye  of  a  friend  into 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORDS. 


43 


his  heart.  Love  will  be  the  recorder  of  all  his  words. 
It  imprints  them  when  they  come  from  lips  that  are 
dear,  and  brings  them  up  with  all  their  tones  and 
echoes  till  they  fill  our  soul.  And  love  will  carry 
them  all  out  into  our  life  again.  It  will  baptize  his 
words  in  his  own  spirit,  and  point  to  every  one  of 
them  with  sacramental  power,  "  This  do  in  remem- 
brance of  me." 


III. 


.  |;b  |jfomse*'s  j|isfalie. 


anon  g  mouse. 


"  JVozv  when  the  Pharisee,  which  had  bidden  him,  saw  it,  he  spake 
within  himself,  saying,  This  man,  if  he  were  a  prophet,  would 
have  known  who  and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is  that 
toucheth  him  ;  for  she  is  a  sinner." —  Luke  vii.  39. 


HE  woman  in  this  narrative  was  some  open 


sinner  of  the  city,  shunned  by  all  who  made 
any  pretensions  to  religion.  She  had  come 
in  the  way  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  had  looked  on 
and  listened  to  him.  She  perceived  in  him  more 
than  in  the  common  religionists  of  the  day,  a  holiness 
of  which  the  rest  made  only  a  profession,  and  which 
smote  her  to  the  soul  with  a  sense  of  her  own  vile- 
ness,  and  with  this  a  strange,  unearthly  compassion 
that  drew  her  to  him  and  changed  her.  She  heard 
some  of  his  words,  it  may  be  those  of  the  lost  sheep, 
or  wandering  prodigal,  till  her  heart  was  melted  and 
she  entered  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  that  door 
which  bears  above  it,  written  by  its  Monarch's  hand, 
"  Him  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out."  She  followed  Christ  to  the  Pharisee's  house, 
but  when  he  entered  it,  the  light  of  her  soul  seemed 
to  vanish,  and  she  was  left  without,  cold  and  dark. 


CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE.  45 

An  atmosphere  surrounded  him  there  which  closed 
her  heart  and  chilled  her  hopes.  Yet  there  was  an 
attraction  in  the  guest  stronger  than  the  repulsion 
from  the  owner.  She  pressed  through  to  the  Sa- 
viour's feet,  and  gave,  in  the  act  recorded  here,  the 
most  touching  expression  of  her  contrition  and  love : 
"  She  stood  at  his  feet  behind  him  weeping,  and  be- 
gan to  wash  his  feet  with  tears,  and  did  wipe  them 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his  feet,  and 
anointed  them  with  the  ointment."  The  shame  of 
deepest  unworthiness,  and  the  unutterable  gratitude 
of  a  saved  soul,  were  struggling  within.  Words  are 
poor  at  such  a  moment.  A  divinely-taught  instinct 
gave  her  the  expression,  and  the  world  has  been 
filled  with  fragrance.  But  the  Pharisee  did  not  per- 
ceive it ;  lie  was  surprised  at  her  daring  and  at 
Christ's  forbearance.  Respect  for  his  guest  kept  him 
silent,  but  he  had  hard  thoughts  about  it.  The  char- 
acter of  the  great  Teacher  convinced  him  that  he 
could  not  think  lightly  of  sin.  What  then  can  ac- 
count for  his  accessibility  to  such  a  sinner  ?  He 
must  surely  be  less  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of 
human  hearts  than  is  believed.  "  This  man,"  he 
thinks,  "  if  he  were  a  prophet,  would  have  known  who 
and  what  manner  of  woman  this  is ;  for  she  is  a  sin- 
ner." 

It  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  set  down  this  Pharisee 
as  an  empty  hypocrite.  There  is  an  easy  off-hand 
way  of  dealing  with  him  and  all  his  brethren,  which 
is  consistent  neither  with  truth  nor  charity,  and 
which  leaves  out  of  view  some  of  the  most  instructive 
sides  of  human  nature.     So  far  as  we  can  see,  he  had 


4(5  CHRIST  IN  SIMON  S  HOUSE. 

a  very  sincere  regard  for  Christ,  and  an  honest  rever- 
ence for  the  law  of  God  as  he  knew  it.  But  the  law 
was  to  him  very  like  a  human  statute-book  that  takes 
note  of  the  external  conduct,  and  its  transgressors 
were  to  be  treated  like  outlaws  and  criminals.  The 
view  of  the  law,  as  a  deep,  spiritual,  all-embracing 
element,  had  scarcely  dawned  upon  him,  —  a  view 
which  gives  an  unspeakably  more  profound  idea  of 
the  evil  of  sin,  but  at  the  same  time,  a  more  tender 
sympathy  with  those  who  are  infected  witli  it.  With 
such  a  view  of  law  and  sin,  he  could  see  a  very  little 
into  the  character  and  plan  of  Christ,  who  came  not 
to  cut  off  decayed  branches,  but  to  operate  upon  the 
roots  and  vital  powers,  that  he  might  save  and  change 
and  regenerate.  The  picture  of  this  sinful  woman 
with  Christ  and  the  Pharisee  on  either  hand,  is 
another  of  those  instances  which  show  the  gospel  to 
be  a  book  for  all  time.  The  two  ways  of  dealing 
with  sin  are  still  to  be  met  with,  —  the  hard  repul- 
sion of  formal  righteousness,  and  the  sympathy  of 
Divine  love.  Sympathy  has  wonderful  eyes,  but  noth- 
ing is  so  blind  as  spiritual  pride  ;  and  we  shall  en- 
deavor to  look  at  the  mistake  this  Pharisee  com- 
mited : — 

I.  As  it  regarded  Christ.  He  could  not  read 
Christ's  nature,  and  undervalued  it.  He  imagined 
that  Christ's  accessibility  to  this  woman  arose  from 
want  of  knowledge,  when  it  came  from  the  greatness 
of  his  compassion.  The  Pharisee,  from  his  narrow 
circle  of  view,  was  pitying  the  ignorance  of  Christ 
that  he  could  be  so  easily  deceived,  while  Christ  was 
looking  into  the  Pharisee's  thoughts,  and  about  to 


CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE.  47 

give  a  striking  proof  of  his  knowledge  of  them.  He 
saw  into  the  woman's  heart  and  life  deeper  than  the 
Pharisee  did.  He  judged  them  by  a  law  far  higher, 
and  loathed  sin  as  no  man  ever  will  do  while  he 
dwells  in  the  clay.  But  he  did  not  gather  up  his 
garments  from  the  touch  of  the  sinner,  because  in 
his  heart  there  was  an  infinite  fountain  of  mercy. 
What  a  difference  was  this  from  the  conception  of  the 
Pharisee  !  The  forbearance  of  Christ  had  its  source, 
not  in  ignorance,  but  in  the  deep,  far-reaching  vision 
of  infinite  love,  which  wills  not  the  death  of  any  sin- 
ner, but  that  lie  should  turn  and  live  ;  and  which 
made  him  ready  not  only  to  receive  the  lost,  and 
wipe  away  their  tears,  but  to  pour  out  his  own  soul 
unto  the  death  to  save  them.  But  every  man  reads 
another  by  the  heart  in  his  own  bosom  ;  and  the  hard, 
self-righteous  Pharisee  is  utterly  unable  to  compre- 
hend him  who  does  not  break  the  bruised  reed,  and 
who  has  a  joy  greater  than  all  the  angels  of  heaven 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth. 

Here  is  a  man  with  his  natural  reason  in  presence 
of  the  most  glorious  object  in  God's  universe, —  a 
contrite  heart  and  a  compassionate  Saviour,  —  and 
he  is  as  blind  to  the  sight,  as  were  those  who  passed 
by  the  cross  of  Calvary  reviling  and  wagging  their 
heads.  It  is  proof  that  the  natural  man  did  not  in- 
vent the  gospel,  since  he  cannot  comprehend  it.  The 
mercies,  like  the  judgments  of  God,  are  "  far  above 
out  of  his  sight."  "  As  the  heavens  are  high  above 
the  earth,  so  are  God's  thoughts  higher  than  man's 
thoughts."  In  regard  to  Christ,  he  mistook  also  his 
way  of  rescuing  from  sin.     If  it   entered    into  the 


48  CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE. 

Pharisee's  thought  at  all  to  rescue  from  sin,  it  would 
be  by  keeping  the  sinner  back  from  him,  thanking 
God,  and  even  feeling  a  selfish  kind  of  thankfulness 
that  he  was  not  like  him.  The  sinner  must  be  made 
fully  sensible  of  his  exclusion  from  the  sympathy  of  all 
good  men,  and  no  door  of  access  can  be  opened  till 
purity  is  restored.  Any  other  way  would  seem  en- 
couragement to  transgression.  Christ's  way  is  the 
very  reverse  of  this.  It  is  the  grand  discovery  of  the 
gospel,  the  spiritual  law  of  attraction.  His  way  was 
to  come  from  an  infinite  height  into  this  world,  that 
he  might  be  near  sinners,  able  to  touch  them,  and 
ready  to  be  touched.  It  was  to  take  their  nature 
upon  him  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  that  they 
might  feel  him  closer  still,  and  that  "  He  might  not 
be  ashamed  to  call  them  brethren."  It  was  "  to  be- 
come sin  for  them,  though  he  knew  no  sin  ; "  that  he 
might  bear  it,  first  by  pity,  then  by  sacrifice,  and  at 
last  by  pardon.  This  is  the  great  and  godlike  plan 
the  very  heart  of  the  reason  why  "  he  lifted  up  his 
feet  to  the  long  desolation,"  and  touched  the  soil  of 
our  sin-stricken  earth.  And  now  he  is  only  carry- 
ing out  his  grand  plan  in  one  of  its  applications  when 
he  draws  this  sinner  near  him,  and  suffers  her  to 
clasp  his  feet  that  she  may  feel  she  is  in  contact  with 
God's  infinite  and  saving  mercy.  It  is  a  ray  of  the 
glorious  Sun  of  Righteousness,  whose  going  forth  is 
from  the  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his  circuit  unto  the 
ends  of  it  which  has  glanced  into  this  woman's  soul 
and  strayed  across  the  Pharisee's  threshold,  that  he 
may  show  men  how  he  came  to  win  back  their  hearts, 
and  that  he  may  prove  to  them,  while  he  hates  sin, 


CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE.  49 

that  he  loves  the  sinner  with  yearning,  quenchless 
compassion.  If  the  sinner's  heart  is  ever  gained, 
thus  it  must  be,  when  he  who  in  his  character  is  "  un- 
dented and  separate  from  sinners,"  comes  so  close  to 
them  in  sympathy,  and  stretches  out  a  hand  to  them, 
stainless  in  purity,  but  filled  with  pardon.  The 
Pharisee  when  he  sees  it  sets  it  down  as  folly.  But 
wisdom  is  justified  of  her  children,  and  God  "  hath 
abounded  toward  us  in  all  wisdom  and  prudence," 
because  he  hath  abounded  "  in  the  riches  of  his  long- 
suffering." 

II.  As  it  regarded  the  woman,  the  Pharisee  thought 
that  as  a  sinner  she  was  to  be  despised.  He  saw  only 
what  was  repulsive  in  her ;  and  had  he  confined  his 
view  to  the  sin,  his  feeling  had  right  with  it.  But  he 
included  the  sinner.  It  was  a  look  of  pride,  without 
any  pity  ;  and  pride,  above  all,  spiritual  pride,  without 
pity,  is  as  cold  and  blind  as  the  polar  ice.  Such 
pride  could  not  see  a  human  soul  with  infinite  desti- 
nies, though  degraded,  a  precious  gem  incrusted  with 
miry  clay,  yet  capable  of  reflecting  the  brightest  rays 
of  the  divine  glory.  For  there  that  soul  was  great  in 
its  origin  and  nature,  and  ready  to  be  saved  in  the 
Lord  with  an  everlasting  salvation.  He  saw  it,  who 
knew  the  soul's  capacity,  for  he  made  it,  and  did  not 
over-estimate  its  value  when  he  gave  his  life  for  it. 
He  had  said,  "What  shall  it  profit  a  man  though  he 
gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  "  And 
measuring  in  his  compassion  the  infinite  loss,  he  paid 
for  it  the  infinite  price. 

And  surely  we  ought  to  feel  that  in  every  fellow 
man,  however  degraded,  there  is  a  kindred  and  im- 


50  CH.tlST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE. 

mortal  nature  which  can  never  be  cut  off  in  this 
world  from  the  possibility  of  the  highest  rise.  To  be 
suffered  to  remain  on  God's  footstool  is  to  be  within 
reach  of  the  steps  to  his  throne.  The  man  is  a 
sharer,  not  only  of  our  original  nature,  but  of  that 
which  the  Son  of  God  took  upon  himself.  Christ  en- 
tered this  house  of  our  humanity  that  every  one 
might  feel  emboldened,  as  this  woman  did,  to  come 
near  and  touch  him  with  contrition  and  faith,  and 
draw  from  him  help  and  hope.  Should  not  the 
thought  of  this  community  of  nature  melt  our  hearts 
when  we  look  upon  poor  outcast  humanity  ?  And 
shall  we  ever  think  ourselves  more  pure  than  the 
Son  of  God,  and  seek  to  shake  ourselves  free  from  its 
touch  ? 

As  regarded  the  woman,  he  did  not  see  that  a  new 
life  had  entered.  A  man  who  is  so  blind  as  not  to 
perceive  the  deep  capacity  of  the  old  nature  will  not 
discover  the  dawning  tokens  of  the  new.  Was  it 
nothing  to  find  her  pressing  close  to  Christ,  clinging 
to  his  feet,  bathing  them  with  weeping  ?  The  out- 
ward signs  were  before  him,  if  he  had  known  how  to 
read  them,  of  the  greatest  change  that  can  befall  a 
human  soul.  These  sobs  and  tears,  and  this  irre- 
pressible emotion,  are  the  cries  of  the  new  creature 
in  Christ  Jesus,  which  must  find  its  way  to  him  who 
is  its  life  and  joy.  Penitence  was  there,  too  deep  for 
words,  the  broken  and  contrite  heart  which  God  will 
not  despise,  a  loathing  of  sin  which  this  Pharisee 
cannot  understand,  and  a  glowing  love  that  made  his 
frown  forgotten  in  the  irresistible  attraction  to  a  Sa- 
viour's feet.     What  worlds  of  emotion  may  be  pass- 


christ  in  simon's  house.  51 

ing  within,  where  man  cannot  look,  a  bitterness  of 
grief  which  the  heart  alone  knows,  and  a  joy  with 
which  no  stranger  can  intermeddle  !  He  knows  it 
who  is  its  Author  and  its  end.  He  sees  the  birth  of 
an  immortal  spirit,  the  glow  and  grandeur  of  a  sec- 
ond creation,  better  than  the  first,  and  welcomed  with 
gladder  songs.  But  all  this  while  the  poor  Pharisee, 
in  presence  of  its  tokens,  can  understand  it  no  more 
than  he  can  hear  the  angels  who  rejoice  over  it,  and 
he  complacently  charges  with  ignorance  him  who 
searches  the  heart,  and  proudly  condemns  her  who 
is  being  acquitted  by  the  Judge  of  all ! 

III.  The  Pharisee's  mistake  as  it  regarded 
himself. — There  is  no  error  that  ends  in  its  own 
first  circle  ;  and  every  serious  mistake  in  the  moral 
world  has  this  in  it,  that  it  recoils  at  last  on  the  man 
who  is  guilty  of  it.  "  Who  art  thou  that  judgest  an- 
other, for  wherein  thou  judgest  another  thou  con- 
demnest  thyself?  " 

The  Pharisee  showed  that  he  did  not  know  his 
own  heart.  Had  he  been  better  acquainted  with  it 
he  would  have  found  sufficient  there  for  dissatisfac- 
tion. If  not  committing  the  sins  which  he  con- 
demned, he  might  have  known  that  he  had  the  seeds 
of  them  in  his  nature.  If  he  was  keeping  them  down 
by  inward  struggle,  this  should  have  made  him 
lenient,  and,  if  cherishing  the  love  of  them,  he  was  a 
publican  wearing  a  cloak.  Every  unrenewed  heart 
has  the  fire  of  corruption  smouldering,  though  it 
may  not  show  the  flame.  The  grace  of  God  alone 
can  extinguish  the  fire  of  any  one  sin,  and  even  then 


52  CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE. 

the  man  is  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning,  ready 
to  be  rekindled,  and  therefore  bound  to  humility. 

It  deserves  to  be  remarked  that  the  man  who  is 
saved  from  sin  by  love  is  softened  by  the  love  which 
saves  him  ;  but  the  man  who  is  kept  from  sin  only  by 
pride  is  made  more  hard.  He  may  be  as  near  the 
sin  in  his  real  heart  as  ever,  but  he  maintains  a  false 
outward  character,  and  builds  an  unsafe  barrier  in 
his  nature  against  open  sin  by  being  very  severe 
upon  sinners.  This  is  the  reason  why  a  mere  exter- 
nal reformation  brings  in  vanity  and  pride,  and  all 
uncharitabieness,  sins  which,  if  not  so  disreputable 
in  the  sight  of  men,  are  as  hateful  in  the  view  of 
God. 

As  regarded  himself,  he  did  not  see  that  in  con- 
demning this  woman,  he  was  rejecting  the  salvation 
of  Christ.  If  he  could  have  established  his  point  that 
it  was  unworthy  of  the  Saviour  to  hold  intercourse 
with  sinners,  what  hope  would  there  have  been  for 
him  ?  Shutting  the  door  of  his  house  upon  this  wo- 
man who  sought  Christ,  he  would  have  shut  the  door 
upon  Christ  himself.  Publican  and  Pharisee,  open 
transgressor  and  moral  formalist,  can  only  enter 
heaven  by  the  same  gate  of  free,  unconditional 
mercy.  Nay,  had  the  Pharisee  seen  it,  he  was 
farther  from  the  kingdom  of  God  than  she  with  all 
her  sins  about  her  ;  and  it  was  not  so  wonderful  that 
Christ  should  permit  this  poor  woman  to  touch  his 
feet,  as  that  he  should  sit  down  as  a  guest  at  the 
Pharisee's  table.  This,  too,  was  in  the  way  of  his 
work,  to  bring  in  a  contrite  sinner  with  him,  and 
touch,  if  it  might   be,  the  hard,  self-righteous  heart. 


CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE.  53 

If  the  Pharisee  had  known  himself,  and  who  it  was 
that  spoke  to  him,  he  would  have  taken  his  place 
beside  her  he  despised.  "  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy 
that  thou  shouldest  come  under  my  roof."  He 
would  have  rejoiced  in  her  reception  as  the  ground 
of  hope  for  himself,  and  as  a  proof  that  Christ  is 
"  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  them  that  come 
unto  God  through  him."  Let  us  trust  that  he 
learned  the  lesson. 

Having  looked  at  the  mistake  of  the  Pharisee  in 
some  of  its  aspects,  it  would  not  be  well  to  close 
without  adverting  to  some  of  the  truths  which  we 
may  learn  from  it. 

Those  who  profess  religion  should  be  careful  how 
they  give  a  false  view  of  it  by  uncharitable  judg- 
ments and  by  assumptions  of  superiority.  It  mat- 
ters little  whether  this  is  done  under  the  guise  of 
zeal  for  orthodoxy  of  doctrine  or  morality  of  life.  If 
it  want  the  spirit  of  meekness  and  sympathy,  it  has 
not  the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  The  greatest  proof  of 
the  Divine  is  that  it  is  deeply  and  tenderly  human. 
God  became  man  to  show  this.  Those  who  have 
struggled  nearest  to  the  centre  of  truth  and  life  in 
Christ  are  those  who  will  have  most  sympathy  with 
men  striving  amid  waves  of  doubt  to  plant  their  feet 
on  some  spiritual  certainty  ;  and  they  who  have  risen 
highest  in  purity  of  heart  will  be  most  ready  to 
stretch  out  their  hand  to  help  a  sinner  to  retrieval. 
The  reason  is  plain.  It  is  these  men  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  misery  of  the  conflict  and  the 
blessedness  of  the  calm.  We  know  of  no  greater 
enemies  to  Christianity  than  a  hard  orthodoxy  desti- 


£)4  CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE. 

tute  of  the  insight  of  charity,  and  a  cold,  self-satis- 
fied morality  which  seeks  its  own  comfort  in  being 
saved,  and  gathers  up  its  skirts  from  the  touch  of 
what  it  calls  the  sinful  world.  What  that  world 
wants  at  all  times,  and  in  our  time  more  than  ever, 
is  sympathy  ;  and  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  Chris- 
tian men  to  look  less  to  the  Pharisee  as  their  model, 
and  more  to  Christ. 

On  the  other  side,  we  must  remind  those  who  pro- 
fess to  be  seeking  religion,  that  they  are  bound  to 
form  their  judgment  of  it  from  its  Author.  Many 
say  they  have  been  repelled  from  Christianity  by  the 
coldness  and  inconsistency  of  its  professors,  and  they 
reckon  this  a  sufficient  excuse.  It  might  be  so  if  we 
had  to  plead  our  case  at  last  before  these  professors. 
But  the  answer  must  be  given  in  before  Him  with 
whom  we  have  to  do.  Nothing  will  avail  then,  un- 
less we  can  make  it  clear  that  we  honestly  and  ear- 
nestly appealed  to  himself,  and  were  repelled.  It 
will  be  very  hard  to  show  this.  Honest,  earnest  men 
should  feel  bound  to  take  their  estimate  of  Christian- 
ity only  from  Christ.  It  is  surely  a  case  of  sufficient 
importance  to  justify  this,  when  the  interests  of  the 
soul  and  eternity  are  involved  in  the  issue.  To  in- 
dulge in  childish  recriminations  when  these  are  at 
stake  is  not  reasoning,  but  trifling.  We  are  all  on 
our  way  to  the  Judge,  and  he  will  settle  the  question 
of  mutual  blame ;  but  the  question  of  sin  must  be 
settled  between  him  and  each  one  of  us  alone.  If 
men  have  felt  the  pressure  of  guilt  and  want,  and 
their  need  of  a  Saviour,  they  will  find  their  way  to 
him  through  all  the  cold  looks  of  professed  disciples 


55 


and  proud  formalists.  That  there  are  Pharisees  who 
misrepresent  him  is  only  a  stronger  reason  why  we 
should  take  his  name  and  bear  it  in  truth. 

If  there  are  some  who  have  advanced  farther  in 
search,  who  are  deeply  depressed  by  a  sense  of  sin, 
and  ready  to  think  they  will  be  loathed  by  all  who 
know  them  as  they  are,  there  is  comfort  in  this  view 
of  Christ.  He  knows  what  is  in  man,  and  has  a  view 
of  sin  deeper  than  any  that  can  darken  a  stricken  con- 
science. He  felt  sin's  overpowering  weight  when  he 
bore  it  for  us,  and  had  a  mysterious  agony  then,  the 
cries  out  of  which  make  us  feel  that  we  understand 
but  a  little  part  of  its  evil.  Yet  how  compassionate 
he  is  to  the  sinner,  whose  worst  of  sin  he  knows.  It 
is  not  pity  merely  that  comes  from  him,  but  sym- 
pathy ;  and  how  wide  the  difference  between  these 
the  struggling  heart  understands.  "  Let  the  humble 
see  this  and  be  glad,  and  let  their  heart  live  who  seek 
God."  Our  comfort  does  not  begin  in  forgetting  our 
sins,  but  in  remembering  them,  and  in  bringing  them 
all  under  the  view  of  his  mercy,  which  is  as  wide  and 
wakeful  as  his  omniscience.  "  0  God !  thou  knowest 
my  foolishness,  and  my  sins  are  not  hid  from  thee." 
Our  confidence  is  sustained  by  thinking  that  as  his 
knowledge  of  us  is  far  larger  than  our  own,  as  he  is 
greater  than  our  hearts,  and  sees  secret  sins  we  over- 
look, and  past  sins  we  forget,  so  his  mercy  is  exalted 
above  our  conception,  u  as  high  as  heaven  is  above 
the  earth,"  and  ready  to  put  our  sins  away  "  as  far  as 
east  is  from  the  west."  Let  such  only  make  full 
proof  of  the  Christ  who  forgave  this  woman.  Let 
them  press  close  to  him  as  he  comes  near  to  them,  a 


56  CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE. 

great  present  spiritual  Saviour,  looking  up  in  his  face, 
clasping  his  feet  with  simple,  humble  faith,  as  he  will 
teach  the  heart  to  do  if  it  inquires  of  him  ;  and  then 
will  come  that  word,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee," 
and  in  due  time  the  other  which  makes  all  sure, 
"  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee,  go  in  peace." 

Besides  all  these  classes,  there  is  still  another  to 
which  we  would  refer  in  closing.  There  are  some 
who  have  cast  themselves  with  a  feeling  of  trustful- 
ness upon  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ ;  but  they  have 
a  hard  struggle  to  maintain,  with  memories  of  sin 
which  rise  up  out  of  the  past,  and  with  present  evil 
imaginings,which  are  the  product  of  a  bygone  state  of 
life  and  heart.  This  is  one  of  the  sorest  trials  of  a 
renewed  life,  that  it  is  built  over  dark  dungeons, 
where  dead  tilings  may  be  buried  but  not  forgotten, 
an  I  where,  through  the  open  grating,  rank  vapors 
still  ascend.  They  are  compelled  to  bear  this  burden 
all  alone,  and  sometimes  they  feel  it  too  heavy. 

Now,  consider  this,  that  it  is  in  wisdom  and  kind- 
ness God  has  closed  the  depth  of  the  human  heart 
against  every  eye  but  his  own.  We  can  sympathize 
with  this  part  of  the  Pharisee's  feeling  that  men 
would  shrink  from  one  another  if  they  saw  each 
other's  sins  and  sinful  thoughts  laid  bare.  When  we 
think  of  our  nearest  friends  looking  in  upon  our  soul, 
we  recoil  with  shame.  Could  the  sacredness  of  our 
friendship  stand  such  openness  ?  It  can  scarcely  be 
believed.  In  this  world  we  are  all  alike  stained  with 
sin,  and  this  very  sin  makes  us  intolerant.  It 
shrinks  from  being  seen,  and  it  is  shocked  at  its  own 
reflection  in  another's  heart.     It  could  not  even  bear 


CHRIST  IN  SIMON'S  HOUSE.  57 

its  own  consciousness,  if  it  were  not  blinded  by  self- 
love  and  habitude.  God  has,  therefore,  concealed 
our  hearts  from  each  other,  and  left  them  open  only 
to  himself,  or,  if  in  any  way  to  others,  only  so  far  to 
beings  of  a  better  world,  who  can  look  in  upon  our 
paths  with  larger  and  more  loving  eyes.  And  yet, 
merciful  as  the  arrangement  is,  many  feel  it  to  be  a 
terrible  burden  to  bear  all  alone ;  to  walk  side  by 
side  with  friends,  and  to  be  solitary  with  such  memo- 
ries and  thoughts  ;  to  go  down  into  deep,  bitter  graves 
of  the  past  with  no  fellow-man  to  hold  them  by  the 
hand.  It  is  this  that  has  led  some,  in  their  agony,  to 
seek  disclosure  in  any  way  as  a  relief,  and  that  has 
formed  a  system  which  invites  it.  It  is  a  great  testi- 
mony to  the  power  of  conscience  in  man,  and  to  the 
difficulty  of  bearing  the  awakened  conviction  of  sin, 
in  utter,  echoless  solitude.  It  is,  indeed,  a  poor 
resource  to  make  a  confessor  out  of  an  accomplice  ; 
for  the  sinful  heart  into  which  we  pour  our  acknowl- 
edgment of  sin  has  its  own  memories  of  guilt,  and  these 
make  it  hard  and  misjudging  to  the  transgressor, 
even  where  it  is  tolerant  to  the  transgression.  Christ 
himself,  the  pure  and  spotless,  asked  no  confession  of 
secret  guilt  when  he  forgave.  There  were  things  not 
to  be  spoken  to  his  human  ear,  but  only  to  be  sub- 
mitted to  his  divine  eye  ;  dark  struggles  and  sins  that 
must  be  dumb,  that  come  before  him  like  this  woman 
with  tears  and  groans,  and  which  only  know  and  feel 
in  their  muteness  that  he  knows  them  all.  The 
remedy  for  the  solitary,  sinful  heart  is  here.  It  is  to 
approach  so  close  to  Christ,  the  divine  and  human,  as 
to  feel  that  he  is  acquainted  with  the  whole,  and  can 


58  CHRIST  IN  SIMON  S  HOUSE. 

sustain  under  the  consciousness  of  it ;  to  make  him  a 
constant  partner  in  all  our  thoughts,  the  darkest  and 
the  deepest.  It  is  the  highest  purity  which  is  capable 
of  the  tenderest  sympathy,  and  they  are  both  in 
Christ.  He  will  not  despise  the  sin  and  misery  of 
those  who  appeal  to  him,  and  he  has  the  power  to 
help  them  in  the  conflict.  It  is  thus  that  God  saves 
the  sacredness  of  our  personality,  —  suffers  no  human 
foot  to  profane  the  dread  solitude  reserved  for  him- 
self, —  and  yet"  gives  us  the  presence  of  a  personal 
human  friend  in  all  our  lonely  struggles. 

If  we  seek  that  presence,  and  take  that  aid,  we  may 
reach  a  state  where  our  souls  may  lie  more  unreserv- 
edly open  to  one  another  than  here  they  can  do.  It 
must  be  part  of  the  happiness  of  a  future  world  to 
look  deeper  into  mutual  hearts,  and  to  know  that  we 
have  nothing  to  pain  us  in  looking,  and  nothing  to 
shrink  from  in  disclosing.  Souls  sometimes  yearn 
through  their  prison  bars  so  to  meet,  and  then  it  may 
be  safely  granted.  It  may  be  part  of  that  happiness 
also  to  cast  the  eye  down  into  our  former  selves  and 
read  all  the  past,  while  we  feel  that  we  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  evil  which  once  dwelt  there.  It  will 
be  regarded  as  an  utterly  extinct  and  alien  thing, 
leaving  nothing  in  the  memory  but  endless  gratitude 
to  him  who  has  freed  us  from  it,  and  a  more  intense 
joy  in  the  life  which  he  has  bestowed.  The  course  to 
this  is  now  to  submit  the  whole,  with  the  unreserved 
transparency  of  a  contrite  heart,  and  with  simple  faith, 
to  his  eye  who  sees  all  to  pardon  it,  and  to  lead  from 
pardon  on  to  purity  and  perfect  peace. 


IV. 


od's  ijord  sttiiccl  to  J|m'8    Sense  of  ||omto\ 

"  Open  thou  mine  eyes  that  I  may  behold  -wondrous  things  out 
of  thy  law." —  Psal.  cxix.  18. 


HE  word  of  God  is  the  great  subject  of  this 
fi/SB  psalm,  and  it  is  surprising  how  much  this 
man  found  in  it,  when  we  think  how  small  a 
part  of  that  word  was  then  in  his  hands.  We  can 
only  account  for  it  when  we  light  upon  a  prayer  like 
this,  which  shows  such  a  desire  to  use  it  to  full  ad- 
vantage, and  an  earnest  request  that  God  would  help 
him  in  doing  so.  The  great  end  of  the  word  of  God 
then,  as  now,  was  practical  ;  but  there  is  a  secondary 
use  here  referred  to,  which  is  worthy  of  considera- 
tion, —  its  power  of  meeting  man's  faculty  of  wonder. 
God  knows  our  frame,  for  lie  made  it,  and  he  must 
have  adapted  the  Bible  to  all  its  parts.  If  we  can 
show  tliis,  it  may  be  another  token  that  the  book 
comes  from  him  who  made  man  ;  and  it  may  be  an 
inducement  to  some  who  neglect  it  to  study  it  with 
more  interest,  and  perhaps  lead  them  to  find  in  it, 
through  the  blessing  of  God,  that  which  is  its  great 
subject,  eternal  life,  his  free  gift. 


60  god's  word  suited  to 

I.  We  shall  make  some  remarks  on  the  sense  of 
wonder  in  man,  and  on  what  generally  excites  it. 

That  God  has  bestowed  upon  man  such  a  faculty 
we  all  know.  It  is  one  of  the  first  and  most  constant 
emotions  in  our  nature.  We  can  see  this  in  children, 
and  in  all  whose  feelings  are  still  fresh  and  natural. 
It  is  the  parent  of  the  desire  to  know,  and  all  through 
life  it  is  urging  men  to  inquire.  There  are  some 
who  pretend  to  have  risen  above  wonder,  and  who 
put  on  a  stolid  apathy  whatever  may  appeal  to  them 
in  the  way  of  the  strange  or  the  grand.  It  is  a  very 
poor  affectation,  which  speaks  as  little  for  the  clear- 
ness of  the  head  as  for  the  warmth  of  the  heart,  and 
which  generally  takes  its  revenge  in  this,  that  the 
defrauded  feeling  seeks  nourishment  either  in  trifles 
or  in  morbid  and  unnatural  shapes.  It  is  a  great 
thing  not  to  lose  the  sense  of  wonder,  and  yet  to 
keep  it  for  right  objects.  There  is  a  true  and  a 
false  cultivation  of  it,  as  of  everything  else,  and  the 
true  way  is  to  turn  it  to  those  things  that  are 
simple  and  noble,  where  wonder  may  rise  into  admi- 
ration and  affection  for  the  pure  and  the  good.  The 
greatest  minds  and  the  truest  hearts  preserve  this 
feeling  fresh  to  the  very  last,  and  go  through  life  find- 
ing new  cause  for  intelligent  wonder  day  after  day. 

The  feeling  may  be  excited  by  different  objects. 
One  of  the  first  causes  of  wonder  is  the  new  or  unex- 
pected. Man's  mind  cannot  long  remain  in  a  state 
of  monotony  without  something  like  pain,  or,  if  it 
does,  it  is  a  sign  of  the  low  level  to  which  the  mind 
has  sunk.  It  has  a  craving  after  the  fresh,  and  God 
has  provided  for  this  in  the  form  of  his  world.     He 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  61 

has  made  the  works  of  nature  pass  before  us  with  a 
perpetually  diversified  face.  He  has  created  summer 
and  winter,  and  ordered  the  sun,  so  that  he  has 
never  probably  set  with  the  same  look  since  man  first 
saw  him.  Those  works  of  nature  are  constantly  turn- 
ing up  new  subjects  of  thought  and  study,  and  will 
do  during  the  world's  existence  ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  the  world  itself  is  weaving  an  ever-shifting  and 
many-colored  web  of  history.  In  all  this  there  is  a 
stimulus  to  man  to  lead  him  to  look  and  think. 

A  second  source  of  wonder  is  to  be  found  in  things 
beautiful  and  grand.  This  is  higher  than  the  mere 
love  of  the  new,  and  leads  on  from  wonder  to  admira- 
tion. They  are  the  smaller  number  who  rise  to  this, 
and  yet  there  is  here  a  very  real  and  true  part  of  our 
nature.  There  is  a  chord  in  the  human  heart  to 
which  the  beautiful  and  sublime  respond,  whether 
these  appear  in  the  material  or  spiritual  world.  If 
we  could  only  take  men  away  for  a  little  out  of  the 
dull  dead  round,  and  from  the  corroding  and  often 
debasing  things  that  draw  them  down  in  their  com- 
mon life,  there  are  objects  such  as  these  appealing  to 
them  daily  and  hourly,  and  asking  them  if  they  have 
not  a  soul.  Rich  sunsets  and  moonlit  skies  are  there, 
requiring  only  eyes  to  see  them,  and  acts  of  self-devo- 
tion and  heroism  are  being  performed,  and  lives  of 
patient  suffering  led,  under  our  sight,  which  are  as 
capable  of  thrilling  as  anything  recorded  in  history. 

There  is  still  a  third  source  of  wonder  in  the  mys- 
terious which  surrounds  man.  To  feel  this,  at  least 
to  feel  it  in  its  truth  and  depth,  calls  out  a  still  su- 
perior part  of  our  nature,  and  lifts  us  above  admira- 


62  god's  words  suited  to 

tion,  to  awe.  It  comes  from  the  sense  of  what  we 
can  touch  with  our  thought  but  cannot  comprehend. 
A  reflective  mind  can  take  but  a  very  few  steps  in 
thinking  till  it  comes  upon  this.  It  is  not  so  much 
that  there  are  things  unknown  around  us,  as  that 
there  are  things  unknowable,  that  there  is  an  infinite 
and  a  mystery  in  the  universe  which  we  cannot  now 
penetrate,  and  which  may  forever  stretch  beyond  us. 
The  tokens  of  man's  highest  nature  lie  not  in  his 
being  able  to  comprehend,  but  in  his  ability  to  feel 
that  there  are  tilings  which  he  cannot  comprehend, 
and  which  he  yet  feels  to  be  true  and  real,  before 
which  he  is  compelled  to  fall  down  in  reverent  awe. 
It  is  here,  above  all,  that  man  comes  into  contact 
with  religion,  with  a  God,  with  an  eternity,  and  he 
in  whom  there  is  little  sense  of  wonder,  or  in  whom 
it  has  been  blunted  and  degraded,  will  have  a  pro- 
portionately feeble  impression  of  these  grand  subjects 
which  the  soul  can  feel  to  be  real,  but  can  never  fully 
grasp. 

These  seem  to  comprise  the  chief,  if  not  the  entire 
sources  of  wonder  in  man  —  things  new,  things  beau- 
tiful  and  grand,  things  mysterious  and  infinite,  ap- 
pealing to  the  mind,  to  the  soul,  to  the  spirit  with 
which  God  has  endowed  his  human  creature. 

II.  We  shall  now  proceed  to  show  that  God  has 
made  provision  for  this  sense  of  wonder  in  his  re- 
vealed word.  We  would  expect  it  to  be  so  if  the 
faculty  is  an  original  part  of  human  nature,  and  if 
there  is  food  for  it  in  God's  world.  The  Bible  is 
from  the  same  Author,  it  must  have  the  same  great 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  63 

features  of  wisdom  and  kindness,  and  it  must  be 
fitted  to  touch,  though  in  a  different  proportion,  the 
full  breadth  of  man's  nature.  Unless  it  did  so,  we 
would  have  difficulty  in  believing  it  to  be  divine. 
The  Bible  exhorts  us  to  consider  "  the  wondrous 
works  of  God,"  and  to  talk  of  them  all.  It  repre- 
sents this  as  a  fitting  exercise  not  only  in  this  world, 
but  in  another.  As  knowledge  rises,  wonder  does 
not  become  less,  and  those  who  stand  on  "  the  sea  of 
glass  mingled  with  fire,"  sing,  "  Great  and  marvellous 
are  thy  works,  Lord  God  Almighty  ;  just  and  true 
are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints"  (Rev.  xv.  3). 

The  Bible  addresses  our  sense  of  wonder  by  con- 
stantly presenting  the  new  and  unexpected  to  us. 
There  are  some  who  have  a  morbid  fear  of  anything 
novel,  and  who  will  have  it  that  the  pure  gospel  lies 
very  much  in  going  a  certain  round  of  texts  and  doc- 
trines in  a  certain  fixed  way,  a  traditionalism  which 
is  always  leading  to  another  and  more  dangerous  ex- 
treme. But  this  way  of  looking  at  the  Bible  is  in  ac- 
cordance neither  with  its  form  nor  its  spirit.  As  to 
its  form,  it  has  gone  on  from  first  to  last  to  add  some- 
thing new  and  fresh  to  all  it  had  said  before,  and  if  its 
circle  has  now  closed,  it  is  because  it  is  already  wide 
enough  never  to  become  old.  There  is  in  it  sufficient 
spiritual  truth  for  man  to  study  and  apply  with  never- 
failing  interest  as  long  as  he  remains  in  his  present 
sphere.  God  closes  the  Bible  as  he  closes  creation  in 
our  world,  that  our  field  of  work  may  be  definite. 

In  its  now  completed  form  it  is  so  constructed  as 
always  to  offer  the  incentive  of  the  new.  It  spreads 
over  such  a  breadth  of  time,  and  such  varied  phases 


64  god's  word  suited  to 

of  life  and  thought,  and  it  has  such  a  freedom  and 
naturalness,  like  that  of  creation,  that  we  feel  we  can 
never  exhaust  it.  The  very  difficulties  connected 
with  its  form,  which  have  led  to  such  disputes  of 
criticism  and  interpretation,  have  been,  we  believe, 
permitted  by  God  that  a  perpetual  interest  may  be 
preserved  in  his  word,  and  that  new  discoveries  may 
turn  up  with  every  fresh  research.  He  chooses  that 
there  should  be  difficulty  and  discussion  rather  than 
stagnation. 

And  then  as  to  the  spirit  of  the  Bible,  we  know 
how  it  exhorts  us  to  search,  to  meditate,  to  "  dig  for 
wisdom,  as  for  hid  treasures,"  which  must  mean  that 
we  should  bring  out  the  fresh  and  unexplored.  We 
know  how  it  compares  truth  to  a  running  well,  which 
must  be  because  it  should  be  in  movement,  visiting 
and  watering  new  pastures.  It  is,  indeed,  certain 
that  the  principles  of  the  doctrine  of  Christ  (Heb.  vi. 
1)  always  remain  the  same,  and  yet  the  apostle  ex- 
horts us  that  we  are  "  to  leave  them  and  go  on 
unto  perfection,"  that  is,  to  leave  them  and  yet  never 
to  abandon  them,  as  a  tree  leaves  its  root  and  yet 
never  quits  hold  of  it,  as  it  has  the  vital  sap  from  that 
constant  source,  and  yet  spreads  away  into  branches 
and  blossoms  and  fruit,  without  which  it  could  never 
be  a  tree,  and  might  as  well  lie  dead.  If  we  think 
that  we  honor  the  Bible  by  reiterating  certain  formu- 
las caught  from  it  without  taking  in  the  manifold 
illustrations  of  God's  word,  and  the  manifold  applica- 
tions in  human  life,  we  shall  find  that  the  Divine  life 
deserts  these  formulas,  and  that  a  class  of  men  spring 
up  who  deny  in  them  the  truth  they  have.     It  would 


MAN'S  SENSE  OF  WONDER.  65 

be  well  for  us  then  to  recognize  the  craving  for  what 
is  fresh  which  exists  in  the  human  mind,  and  to  meet 
it  honestly  and  healthfully,  not  by  going  outside 
God's  word,  or  neglecting  the  essential  truths  that 
are  in  it,  but  by  taking  them  and  proving  that  they 
are  filled  with  an  endless  variety  of  interest,  when  we 
ask  God  to  give  us  the  ear  of  the  learned,  and  to 
waken  us  morning  by  morning  and  spread  over  them 
the  dew  of  youth.  The  good  house-holder  seeks 
"  to  bring  out  of  his  treasure  things  new  and  old." 

While  the  Bible  makes  provision  for  constantly  new 
views  of  truth,  it  sets  before  us  also  things  beautiful 
and  grand,  without  which  the  new  would  be  a  matter 
of  idle  curiosity.  Even  in  regard  to  the  natural 
world,  much  of  the  admiration  with  which  we  regard 
its  features  has  been  learned  from  the  word  of  God. 
The  men  of  the  ancient  classical  age,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge  from  their  writings,  had  the  love  of  natural 
scenery  imperfectly  developed.  We  find  only  glimpses 
of  it  shut  up  amid  the  limitations  of  human  passion 
and  action.  With  all  their  pantheism  and  worship  of 
material  powers,  the  comparative  absence  of  what 
may  be  called  a  feeling  of  the  spirit  of  nature  itself  is 
very  remarkable,  and  would  seem  to  show  that  crea- 
tion cannot  be  appreciated  until  we  have,  shining 
through  it,  the  light  of  a  personal  God.  We  find  the 
love  of  nature  everywhere  in  the  Bible,  in  the  Psalms 
and  Prophets,  in  the  framework  of  the  Gospels,  and 
even  in  the  views  of  a  future  existence ;  and,  in 
the  modern  world,  it  is  only  among  Christian  nations 
that  it  has  come  out  into  clear,  full  form,  that  it  has 
been  set  free  from  human  limitation,  and  has  had 

5 


66  god's  word  suited  to 

cast  upon  it  some  reflection  of  the  infinite  and  divine. 
In  setting  free  the  human  soul,  the  Bible  has  also 
liberated  nature.  Our  literature  owes  far  more  to 
this  source  than  it  confesses  or  sees,  and  if  the  com- 
mon mind  has  awakened  to  the  perception  of  the 
tender,  the  beautiful  and  sublime  in  the  dew-drops 
and  flowers,  in  the  strength  of  the  everlasting  hills, 
in  the  calm  majesty  of  the  moon  walking  in  bright- 
ness, —  to  the  sense  of  the  infinite  in  the  great  and 
wide  sea  and  the  depths  of  the  open  heaven,  it  owes 
much  of  the  feeling,  and  even  of  the  expression,  to 
the  great  book  which  has  unclosed  the  spirit's  eye. 
But  far  beyond  these  are  the  forms  of  the  moral  and 
spiritual  with  which  the  Bible  is  so  filled,  and  which 
it  is  its  supreme  aim  to  present  to  men,  —  what  it 
terms  emphatically  "  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  "  —  the 
pure  and  merciful,  the  heroic  and  self-devoted,  singly 
and  in  groups,  flaming  up  into  great  deeds,  or  flow- 
ing on  in  the  calm  current  of  a  life  ;  and  among 
these,  those  transformations  the  most  wonderful,  from 
the  impure  to  the  holy,  from  the  meanest  human 
mould  to  the  loftiest  shapes  of  magnanimity  and 
self-devotion.  Does  any  book,  or  do  all  other  books 
together  present  such  scenes  of  moral  grandeur 
and  tenderness  with  such  everlasting  freshness  in 
them  ? 

And  then,  if  we  come  to  the  third  source  of  won- 
der, that  which  raises  it  to  awe,  it  is  the  peculiar 
province  of  the  Bible  to  deal  with  this.  Its  aim  is,  all 
through,  to  lead  us  to  such  subjects  as  the  soul,  and 
God  and  the  eternal  world,  and  sin,  the  great  mystery 
and  root  of  mysteries,  and  the    marvellous   remedy 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  67 

which  has  been  provided  for  it  in  the  descent  of  the 
divine  nature  to  the  human,  that  great  mystery  of 
godliness,  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh."  These 
are  the  subjects  of  never-dying  interest  round  which 
the  thoughts  of  man  can  never  cease  to  revolve,  be- 
cause they  touch  his  deepest  nature  and  affect  his 
everlasting  destiny.  If  the  "  powers  of  the  world  to 
come "  have  anything  in  them  to  excite  wonder 
and  awe,  the  Bible,  beyond  all  other  books,  holds 
them  in  its  hand. 

It  is  impossible,  in  thinking  of  these  things,  to  for- 
get that  there  is  one  centre  in  which  all  these  ele- 
ments of  wonder  in  the  Bible  are  found  united  — 
Jesus  Christ.  He  is  the  keystone  of  its  arch,  and 
it  falls  or  stands  with  him.  He  is  more ;  he  is  the 
firmament  that  holds  all  its  stars  and  its  brightness. 
But  for  him  there  would  have  been  no  Bible,  and  if 
we  read  it  without  him  it  has  no  coherence  and  no 
guiding  thought.  All  the  struggling  aspirations  of 
the  ancient  church  converge  to  him  as  rays  to  a  fo- 
cus, and  all  the  great  forces  of  truth  and  goodness 
now  in  the  world  emerge  from  him,  whether  they 
know  it  or  not.  One  of  the  prophets  who  spoke  of 
him  declares  his  name  to  be  "  Wonderful,"  "  Coun- 
selor," and  an  apostle  assures  us  that  "  in  Him  are 
hidden  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge." 
If  the  claims  of  Jesus  Christ  are  to  be  maintained,  as 
they  must  and  will  be,  it  is  not  by  lessening  but  by 
enlarging  them.  We  must  hold  that  there  is  noth- 
ing good  or  true  or  pure  among  men  but  in  some 
way  it  has  its  source  in  him,  for  "He  is  the  true 
light,  which  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the 


68  god's  word  suited  to 

world."  The  outer  circle  of  human  history  and  the 
inner  circle  of  the  Divine  must  be  read  in  and  resju- 
lated  by  his  coming.  Every  breathing  after  the  Di- 
vine life,  wherever  it  appeared,  went  to  him  who  is 
"  the  desire  of  all  nations,"  and  could  only  come 
from  his  own  Spirit.  When  we  take  this  view  what 
a  field  of  ever-growing  thought  is  opened  up  in 
Christ !  All  the  aspirations  of  the  human  soul,  as 
far  as  they  are  natural  and  just,  will  be  found  to  be 
met  in  him  and  satisfied.  When  the  Athenians, 
whose  delight  it  was  to  hear  "  some  new  thins:," 
came  to  Paul,  he  preached  unto  them-"  Jesus  and 
the  resurrection  ;"  and  those  whose  craving  is  after 
the  fresh  may  still  find  room  for  its  gratification  in 
this  same  study.  There  is  scope  enough  for  it  in  the 
preparation  for  his  first  coming,  the  depth  of  his 
words,  the  far-reaching  result  of  his  life  and  death, 
the  application  of  his  principles  to  man  and  to  human 
history  till  the  world's  close,  and  in  the  opening  vis- 
tas into  the  eternal  beyond.  The  greatest  mind  can 
do  but  little  to  such  a  subject,  the  course  of  Chris- 
tian literature  seems  only  beginning  to  deal  with 
some  parts  of  it,  and  we  feel  that  if  the  bearing  of 
the  whole  word  of  God  upon  Christ,  and  of  Christ 
upon  man,  were  to  be  fully  treated,  the  world  could 
not  contain  the  books  that  should  be  written. 

If  we  think  again  of  the  beautiful,  the  grand,  the 
mysterious,  to  speak  of  them  in  one,  where  shall  we 
find  such  views  of  them  as  in  the  person  and  life  and 
death  of  Christ  ?  An  atheist  who  denies  his  divinity, 
or  the  divine  in  any  sense,  need  not  be  ashamed  to 
own  the  exceeding  beauty  of  his  life,  and  may  say, 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  69 

with  another  meaning  than  ours,  "  Thou  art  fairer 
than  the  children  of  men  ;  "  "  The  ideal  is  so  beautiful 
that,  alas  !  I  cannot  think  it  possible  ;"  and  we  know 
the  saying  of  an  unbeliever  concerning  his  death, 
"Jesus  Christ  died  like  a  god."  We  who  find  in 
him  the  highest  ideal  joined  to  the  most  perfect  real- 
ity (for  there  must  be  some  such  union,  else  the  aspi- 
rations of  man  and  his  struggles  will  be  at  perpetual 
war),  we,  who  hold  this,  find  in  him  an  object  of 
ever-increasing  admiration  and  reverence.  The  hope 
of  a  sinful  suffering  world,  if  there  be  hope  at  all, 
must  be  found  when  the  Divine  is  seen  stooping 
through  him  to  the  human,  the  infinitely  holy  to  the 
low  and  the  lost,  and  when  the  love  of  the  Father 
flows  out  to  his  ungrateful  and  rebellious  children  in 
the  life  and  death  of  the  Eternal  Son.  There  is 
room  in  this,  not  for  the  wonder  of  earth  only,  but  of 
heaven.  New  studies  and  new  songs  spring  up  from 
it  there,  and  all  his  holy  and  intelligent  creatures 
find  a  fresh  light  cast  upon  his  relations  to  them,  in 
coming  ages  and  in  distant  worlds. 

III.  We  come  now,  in  the  last  place,  to  the  means 
we  are  to  use  in  order  to  have  God's  Word  thus  un- 
folded. The  prayer  of  the  Psalmist  may  be  our 
guide  —  "  Open  thou  mine  eyes  that  I  may  see." 

Now,  here  it  may  be  remarked  that  he  asks  for  no 
new  revelation.  It  was  in  God's  hand  to  give  this, 
and  lie  did  it  in  his  own  time  to  those  ancient  believ- 
ers ;  but  to  all  of  them  at  every  time  there  was 
enough  given  for  the  purposes  of  life.  The  request 
is  not  for  more,  but  that  he  may  employ  well  that 


70  god's  word  suited  to 

which  he  possesses.  Still  better  does  such  a  form  of 
request  suit  us,  to  whom  life  and  immortality  have 
been  brought  to  light  in  Christ.  If  we  do  not  find 
sufficient  to  exercise  our  thoughts  with  constant 
freshness,  and  our  soul  with  the  grandest  and  most 
attractive  subjects,  it  is  because  we  want  the  eyesight. 
It  is  of  great  importance  for  us  to  be  persuaded  of 
this  truth,  that  there  are  many  tilings  in  the  Bible 
still  to  be  found  out,  and  that  if  we  come  in  the 
right  spirit,  we  may  be  made  discoverers  of  some  of 
them.  These  things  disclose  themselves,  not  so 
much  to  learning,  though  that  is  not  to  be  despised, 
as  to  spiritual  insight,  to  a  humble,  loving  heart. 
And  this  at  least  is  certain,  that  we  shall  always  find 
things  that  are  new  to  ourselves.  However  frequent- 
ly we  traverse  the  field,  we  shall  perceive  some  fresh 
golden  vein  turning  up  its  glance  to  us,  and  we  shall 
wonder  how  our  eyes  were  formerly  holden  that  we 
did  not  see  it.  It  was  all  there  waiting  for  us,  and 
we  feel  that  more  is  waiting,  if  we  had  the  vision. 
There  is  a  great  Spirit  in  it  that  holds  deeper  con- 
verse with  our  souls.  This,  to  a  true  student,  may 
be  a  token  not  merely  of  divinity  in  the  substance  of 
the  Bible,  but  of  an  inspiring  breath,  define  it  as  we 
will,  which  has  presided  over  the  form. 

This  further  may  be  observed,  that  the  Psalmist 
asks  for  no  new  faculty.  The  eyes  are  there  already, 
and  they  need  only  to  be  opened.  It  is  not  the  be- 
stowal of  a  new  and  supernatural  power  which  enables 
a  man  to  read  the  Bible  to  profit,  but  the  quickening 
of  a  power  he  already  possesses.  In  one  view  it  is 
supernatural,  as  God  is  the  author  of  the  illumination 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  71 

by  a  direct  act  of  his  Spirit ;  in  another  it  is  natural, 
as  it  operates  through  the  faculties  existing  in  man's 
soul.  God  gives  "  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  revela- 
tion in  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  that  the  eyes  of  man's 
understanding  may  be  enlightened  "  (Eph.  i.  17). 
It  is  important  to  rememember  this  also,  for  here 
lies  our  responsibility,  that  we  have  the  faculty,  and 
here  also  is  the  point  at  which  we  must  begin  action 
with  the  help  of  God.  A  man  will  never  grow  into 
the  knowledge  of  God's  word  by  idly  waiting  for  some 
new  gift  of  discernment,  but  by  diligently  using  that 
which  God  has  already  bestowed  upon  him,  and  using 
at  the  same  time  all  other  helps  that  lie  within  his 
reach.  There  are  men  and  books  that  seem,  beyond 
others,  to  have  the  power  of  aiding  insight.  All  of 
us  have  felt  it  in  the  contact  of  some  affinity  of  na- 
ture which  makes  them  our  best  helpers  ;  the  kindred 
clay  upon  the  eyes  by  which  the  great  Enlightener 
removes  our  blindness  (John  ix.  6).  Let  us  seek  for 
such,  and  if  we  find  them  let  us  employ  them  without 
leaning  on  them.  Above  all,  let  us  give  our  whole 
mind  in  patient,  loving  study  to  the  book  itself;  and 
where  we  fail,  at  any  essential  part.  God  will  either 
send  his  evangelist  Philip  to  our  aid  (Acts  viii.)  or 
instruct  us  himself.  But  it  is  only  to  patient,  loving 
study  that  help  is  given.  God  could  have  poured  all 
knowledge  into  us  by  easy  inspiration;  but  it  is  by 
earnest  search  alone  that  it  can  become  the  treasure 
of  the  soul. 

But  if  so,  it  may  still  be  asked,  what  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this  prayer  ?  and  why  does  the  Bible  itself  in- 
sist so  often  on  the  indispensable  need  of  the  Spirit 


72  god's  word  suited  to 

of  God  to  teach  ?  Now,  there  is  a  side  here  as  true 
as  the  other,  and  in  no  way  inconsistent  with  it.  If 
prayer  without  effort  would  be  presumptuous,  effort 
without  prayer  would  be  vain.  The  great  reason  why 
men  do  not  feel  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  Bible  is 
a  spiritual  one.  They  do  not  realize  the  grand  evil 
which  the  Bible  has  come  to  cure,  and  they  have  not 
a  heart  to  the  blessings  which  it  offers  to  bestow. 
The  film  of  a  fallen  nature,  self-maintained,  is  upon 
their  eyes  while  they  read.  "  The  eyes  of  their  un- 
derstanding are  darkened,  being  alienated  from  the 
life  of  God  "  (Eph.  iv.  18).  All  the  natural  powers 
will  never  find  the  true  key  to  the  Bible,  till  the 
thoughts  of  sin  and  redemption  enter  the  heart,  and 
are  put  in  the  centre  of  the  book.  It  is  the  part  of 
the  Father  of  lights,  by  the  teaching  of  his  Spirit,  to 
give  this  to  the  soul  ;  and  he  will,  if  it  humbly  ap- 
proaches him  with  this  request.  Thus  we  shall  study, 
as  one  might  a  book  with  the  author  at  hand,  to  set 
forth  the  height  of  its  argument,  or  as  one  might 
look  on  a  noble  composition,  when  the  artist  breathes 
into  us  a  portion  of  his  soul,  to  let  us  feel  the  centre 
of  its  harmonies  of  form  and  color.  Those  who  have 
given  to  the  Bible  thought  and  prayer  will  own  that 
these  are  not  empty  promises. 

We  may  say  in  the  close,  that  there  are  two  classes 
of  persons  who  may  learn  something  from  this  prayer 
of  the  Psalmist.  There  are  those  first  —  and  many 
of  them  good  Christians  —  who  do  not  take  so  large 
a  view  of  the  Bible  as  they  ought.  They  confine 
themselves  to  some  doctrines  and  precepts,  central 
and  needful,  and  they  read  the  Bible  to  find  these  in 


man's  sense  of  wonder.  73 

constantly  recurring  forms,  just  as  some  men  look  on 
flowers  chiefly  as  verifying  some  botanical  theory. 
This  reduces  the  book  of  God  to  a  set  of  doctrinal 
moulds,  and  often  makes  what  should  be  the  most 
interesting  of  all  books,  one  to  which  they  have  to 
urge  themselves  by  a  constraint  of  conscience,  when 
they  might  bv  drawn  to  it  by  the  attraction  of  con- 
stant freshness  and  growing  beauty.  For  our  own 
sakes,  and  for  the  sake  of  presenting  it  in  its  true  light 
to  the  world,  let  us  seek  to  study  it  in  all  the  vividness 
of  life  and  variety  of  color,  with  which  God  has  set  it 
forth.  The  special  want  of  our  time  is  to  make  the 
Bible  more  human  without  making  it  less  divine. 
Christ  and  the  great  truths  of  his  gospel  must  always 
stand  in  the  centre  and  pervade  the  whole  ;  but  we 
should  seek  to  make  them  do  it,  as  the  Bible  itself 
does,  touching  man's  nature  and  his  history  in  every 
varied  way.  There  is  no  Christian,  however  humble, 
who  may  not  grow  into  the  habit  of  such  a  study  of 
the  Bible,  and  thus  make  it  to  himself  not  only  a  di- 
vinely true,  but  an  ever  new  book ;  life  in  its  heart, 
manifold  light  in  all  its  modes  of  presentation,  till 
he  can  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this  same  speaker,  uO, 
how  love  I  thy  law  ;  it  is  my  study  all  the  day." 

There  is,  however,  still  another  class  who  may  have 
given  much  thought  to  the  Bible,  and  obtained  from 
it  fresh  views  of  man  and  nature  and  God,  but  they 
have  not  yet  lifted  up  the  heart  with  this  petition, 
"  Open  thou  mine  eyes  that  I  may  behold  wondrous 
things  out  of  thy  law."  They  have  not  felt  their  need 
of  any  such  enlightenment,  because  they  have  not  felt 
the  presence  of  sin,  nor  realized  the  darkness  that  it 


74  GOD'S  WORD  SUITED  TO 

pours  over  the  spiritual  vision.  It  is  much  to  be 
feared  that  this  class  is  a  large,  and  in  our  days  an 
increasing  one.  The  progress  of  a  kind  of  moral  ed- 
ucation, and  the  decent  restraints  of  society,  have  had 
such  a  general  outward  effect  upon  character  that 
numbers  take  rest  in  this,  and  go  no  further.  They 
very  willingly  use  the  Bible  as  a  book  of  culture,  but 
they  do  not  think  of  its  one  great  end,  —  the  deliver- 
ance of  human  nature  from  the  terrible  penalty  and 
taint  of  sin.  Yet,  till  this  is  felt  and  sought,  the  book 
for  its  main  purpose  lies  all  unread.  Any  interest 
found  in  it  without  this  has  narrow  limits.  It  can- 
not go  very  deep  nor  last  very  long.  It  is  when  sin 
and  redemption  are  seen  to  be  its  burden,  that  it  re- 
ceives an  interest  and  grandeur  as  deep  as  the  nature 
of  the  soul,  and  as  large  as  eternity.  If  there  are 
some  who  feel  or  who  fear  that  there  is  a  spiritual 
disease  within  them  yet  little  thought  of,  and  a  depth 
in  the  Bible  not  yet  dealt  with,  let  them  ask  of  its 
author  the  divine  eye-salve  with  which  he  anoints 
the  eyes.  Its  first  revelations  may  be  unwelcome, 
and  men  may  be  startled  to  see  how  fancied  wealth 
and  fulness  sink  into  spiritual  poverty  and  misery. 
But  continued  vision  will  open  up  divine  remedies, 
gold  tried  in  the  fire,  and  white  raiment,  the  value  of 
which  will  only  be  enhanced  by  growing  insight. 
And  all  the  discoveries  of  the  Bible  will  have  this  to 
commend  them,  that  they  speak  to  us  in  the  language 
of  personal  friendship  and  love.  They  come  laden 
with  messages  from  the  heart  of  the  great  God,  and 
as  his  truths  are  new,  his  compassions  which  are  in 
them  "  are   new    also   every    morning."     When   he 


MAN  S  SENSE  OF  WONDER. 


75 


opens  our  eyes  to  see  his  greatness  it  is  like  the  char- 
iots and  horses  of  fire  ranged  on  the  surrounding 
mountains  for  our  safety,  and  when  he  reveals  the 
tenderness  of  his  character,  it  is,  like  the  well  re- 
vealed to  Hagar  in  the  desert,  ready  for  our  consola- 
tion. Of  all  the  new  things  which  his  word  has 
promised,  let  us  desire  first  that  new  heart  which  in- 
sures the  new  eyesight.  It  is  brought  nearer  to  us 
than  ever  before,  by  him  who  has  come  as  the  life  of 
men  that  he  may  be  their  light  (John  i.  4).  u  And 
Jesus  stood  and  commanded  him  to  be  brought  unto 
him,  and  when  he  was  come  near,  he  asked  him,  say- 
ing, What  wilt  thou  that  I  shall  do  unto  thee  ?  And 
he  said,  Lord,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight.  And 
Jesus  said  unto  him,  Receive  thy  sight ;  thy  faith 
hath  saved  thee.  And  immediately  he  received  his 
sight  and  followed  him,  glorifying  God  "  (Luke  xviii. 
40-43). 


V. 


fnrnase  of  jbnoujtedcjc,   |ncrase  of 


tomnv. 


He  that  increaseth  knotvledge  increaseth  sorrow."  —  Ecc.  i.  18. 

^HIS  is  a  very  strange  declaration  to  come  from 
the  man  who  had  made  wisdom  his  choice,  as 
the  supreme  thing  in  life,  and  who  had  been 
approved  of  by  God  for  the  decision.  He  had  prose- 
cuted the  study  of  knowledge  with  all  ardor,  and  was 
rewarded  with  success.  He  knew  every  plant,  from 
the  cedar  of  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  which  springeth 
from  the  wall,  and  the  Book  of  Proverbs  proves  his 
acquaintance  with  the  heart  of  man.  How  are  we  to 
explain  this  ?  The  explanation  lies  in  this,  that  in 
the  present  utterance  God  is  left  out  of  view.  The 
Book  of  Ecclesiastes  is  a  dialogue  between  two  men, 
or  two  states  of  mind,  in  which,  at  one  time,  scepti- 
cism prevails,  and,  at  another  time,  faith  ;  and  here  we 
have  a  view  of  knowledge  without  faith.  As  Solomon 
had  attempted  to  find  happiness  without  God,  he  had 
tried  to  find  wisdom  also  without  Him.  None  ever 
tried  it  under  better  auspices.     He   had   the  highest 


INCREASE  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  INCREASE  OP  SORROW.   77 

powers  of  mind,  and  the  largest  resources  at  command. 
But  he  failed  in  this  too,  that  he  might  be  brought 
back  to  the  true  wisdom  from  which  he  had  wan- 
dered: —  "Fear  God,  and  keep  His  commandments: 
for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man."  The  declaration 
of  the  text,  then,  may  be  considered  as  the  expression 
of  a  soul  that  seeks  satisfaction  in  mere  earthly  knowl- 
edge. We  shall  attempt  to  illustrate  it  by  the  various 
fields  of  human  inquiry. 

I.  Mere  earthly  knoivledge  is  unsatisfactory  in  its 
nature.  —  Take  as  an  illustration  of  this  the  field  of 
creation.  There  is  around  man  in  space  a  world  with 
facts  and  laws  which  he  feels  impelled  to  study.  He 
must  arrange  and  generalize  the  facts,  and  trace  the 
laws  from  lower  up  to  higher.  It  is  work  made  for 
him,  and  there  is  happiness  in  the  prosecution  of  it. 
But  to  be  told,  or  to  be  made  to  feel,  that  there  is 
nothing  but  facts  and  laws,  would  not  this  be  sorrow- 
ful ?  And  the  higher  he  rises  in  research,  and  finds 
that  there  is  nothing  more,  would  it  not  be  increase  of 
sorrow?  The  knowledge  of  facts  and  laws  can  em- 
ploy man's  reason,  but  it  cannot  ultimately  satisfy  it, 
and  still  less  can  it  soothe  his  soul,  or  meet  the  long- 
ings of  his  spirit.  This  deeper  part  of  his  nature 
cries  out  for  nourishment,  and  it  will  not  take  a  stone 
for  bread.  How  sad  would  this  be,  to  be  enlarging 
our  vision  of  endless  mechanism,  but  never  to  come  in 
sight  of  a  great  intelligent  Maker?  —  to  perceive  won- 
drous life  in  worlds  around  and  beneath,  but  no  life 
above  nor  before :  life  only  tending  to  death,  and 
never  reflecting  a  life  that  lives  for  ever?  —  rain-drops 


78 


dripping  in  a  vault,  and  gravitating  eternally  to  dark- 
ness, but  no  dew-drops  returning  the  look  of  God,  and 
drawn  up  as  by  sunbeams  to  his  presence  ?  How  sol- 
itary would  it  be  to  ascend  amid  all  the  spheres,  and 
learn  only  names  of  forces,  and  hear  the  din  of  iron 
wheels,  and  never  feel  a  heart  beating  through  them, 
nor  listen  to  a  voice  like  that  of  the  angels  singing 
together  as  the  sons  of  God,  and  shouting  for  joy 
from  world  to  world  ?  Law  everywhere  cannot  per- 
manently satisfy  man  without  a  Lawgiver  ;  order,  with- 
out a  primordial  reason ;  forms  of  skill  and  beauty, 
without  a  great  Thinker,  from  whom  they  are  emana- 
tions, and  whom  our  own  thoughts  can  touch,  as  they 
touch  kindred  souls,  till  we  can  say,  "  How  precious 
are  Thy  thoughts  unto  me,  0  God !  " 

II.  Mere  earthly  knoivledge  is  painful  in  its  con- 
tents. —  For  an  illustration  of  this,  we  may  go  from 
creation  to  history,  from  space  to  time.  Here  we  have 
to  contemplate  man  in  his  wonderful  works  and  ways, 
the  crown  of  this  lower  world,  who  studies  its  laws 
and  softens  its  rudeness,  and  adds  new  touches  to  its 
face  of  beauty.  Let  us  think  what  the  world  would  be 
without  man  to  comprehend  it  by  science,  and  repre- 
sent it  in  art,  and  cast  over  it  the  glow  of  imagination, 
making  it  a  better,  brighter  world  than  the  sun  shines 
on ;  and  yet  not  so,  for  that  beauty  must  in  some 
way  be  there  if  man  discovers  it.  God  has  hidden  it, 
and  given  to  man  the  faculty,  that  he  may  have  the 
pleasure  of  finding  it  out. 

And  yet  how  melancholy  is  the  history  of  man  when 
written  down !     Such  oppression  and  wrong,  and  suf- 


INCREASE    OF    SORROW.  79 

fering  and  crime,  and  ever-engulfing  death !  How 
sad  to  disentomb  Egyptian  and  Assyrian  monuments, 
and  gaze  on  endless  trains  of  miserable  captives  and 
insulting  conquerors,  and  to  see  events  writing  similar 
subjects  for  history  even  now !  Is  this  all  ?  If  the 
thought  of  God  comes,  there  is  some  security  for 
progress,  some  hope  even  of  retrieval.  With  all  the 
mystery  there  is  not  despair.  The  past  is  not  utterly 
past.  The  ruins  of  nations  become  like  the  strata 
that  are  platforms  for  new  worlds,  and  their  ruins 
have  had  a  life  in  them  which  is  still  capable  of  recon- 
struction. Take  away  our  hope  in  God,  and  history 
becomes  a  sea  of  tumbling  billows,  dark  and  shoreless  ; 
nations  rising  only  to  fall ;  great  souls  shooting  across 
the  horizon  like  dying  meteors ;  and  all  the  spiritual 
longings  of  the  past  written  down  but  to  tell  us  of  the 
vanity  of  our  own  efforts.  We  could  bear  to  study 
history  only  as  we  forget  all  the  higher  ends  it  might 
serve  as  a  school  of  training  for  immortal  souls,  and 
as  the  steps  of  a  Divine  Architect  through  the  broken 
scaffolding  and  scattered  stone-wreck  upward  to  a 
finished  structure.  The  very  glimpse  of  this  is  reviv- 
ing, but  to  give  up  at  once  Architect  and  end,  and  see 
human  lives  shattered  and  strewn  across  weary  ages, 
and  human  hearts  torn  and  bleeding,  with  no  abiding 
result,  this  surely  would  fill  a  thoughtful  mind  with 
pain.     The  more  of  such  history,  the  more  of  sorrow. 

III.  Mere  earthly  hiowledge  is  hopeless  in  its  issue.  — 
For  an  illustration  of  this  we  may  take  the  field  of 
abstract  thought.  The  ultimate  object  of  man's  search 
is  to  find  the  centre  of  knowledge  which  commands 


80  INCREASE   OF    KNOWLEDGE, 

the  whole  field.  The  man  who  begins  the  search  after 
truth  is  generally  more  satisfied  with  his  progress  than 
he  who  has  been  long  in  the  course.  Those  things 
which,  like  the  stem  of  a  tree,  seem  simple  and  easily 
grasped,  spread  away  beneath  into  interminable  roots, 
where  we  can  never  count  them  all  nor  reach  the  end 
of  any  one.  Let  a  man  try  to  master  a  single  subject, 
and  he  will  find  it  so.  The  road  becomes  longer  and 
the  field  wider  as  he  proceeds.  Side-paths  strike  off, 
related  sciences  penetrate  his  special  subjects  of  study, 
which  must  be  known  if  he  is  to  understand  his  own 
department  thoroughly,  till  he  feels  how  "  brief  is  life 
and  how  long  is  knowledge."  No  mind  can  touch  all 
these  things,  far  less  contain  them.  The  more  one 
knows  the  more  one  feels  it ;  and  the  wider  human  sci- 
ence grows  as  a  whole,  the  less  is  the  portion  that  can 
be  overtaken  by  each  individual.  It  is  surely  painful 
to  reflect  that  if  there  be  not  an  infinite  mind,  the 
universe  can  never,  even  as  a  material  thing,  be  com- 
prehended in  thought.  Each  mind  is  like  a  glow- 
worm with  its  little  spot  of  light  round  it,  but  there  is 
no  broad  sun  pouring  illumination  on  the  whole.  It 
would  then  be  no  universe,  no  one  thing  to  any  one 
mind  ;  and  the  increase  of  knowledge  would  only  make 
this  more  apparent,  showing  the  unknown  to  be  always 
more  than  the  known. 

And  if  a  man  should  feel  impelled  to  go  beyond  the 
surface  of  things,  and  to  inquire  into  the  origin  of 
being  and  the  end  of  all  things,  without  accepting  a 
God,  doubt  and  darkness  would  only  gather  at  every 
step.  If  he  is  sustained  by  faith  —  by  that  magnetic 
attraction  of  the  soul  to  God  which  goes  straight  to 


INCREASE    OF    SORROW.  81 

Him  by  an  intuition  of  the  nature  —  he  can  keep  his 
hold  in  the  midst  of  maze  and  obscurity.  However 
pleasant  sight  may  be,  it  is  not  indispensable  where  he 
can  feel,  where  he  is  assured  that  there  is  one  Mind 
which  grasps  all  from  end  to  end,  and  to  whose  infi- 
nite reach  his  own  finite  spirit  can  advance  for  ever. 
At  one  bound  his  soul  gains  the  centre,  and  then  his 
reason  can  patiently  travel  up  to  it,  and  calmly  wait 
the  removal  of  every  difficulty.  But  let  a  man 
renounce  this,  and  seek  the  origin  and  end  of  things 
without  God,  and  doubt  grows  as  search  deepens,  for 
doubt  is  on  the  face  of  all  things  if  it  be  in  the  heart 
of  the  inquirer.  With  no  lamp  in  the  soul  there  is  no 
light  in  the  world.  His  own  being  and  end  become 
an  increasing  perplexity.  He  grows  in  unquietness 
and  irresolution,  which  men  do  not  feel  who  have  not 
entered  on  such  a  search.  As  he  enlarges  the  circum- 
ference of  knowledge  he  enlarges  the  encircling  dark- 
ness, and  even  the  knowledge  yields  no  ray  of  true 
satisfaction. 

TV.  Mere  earthly  knoivledge  is  discouraging  in  its  per- 
sonal results.  —  We  may  consider  here  the  moral  nature 
of  man.  Earthly  science  can  do  very  much  to  improve 
man's  external  circumstances.  It  can  occupy  his  rea- 
son, it  can  refine  and  gratify  his  taste;  but  there  are 
greater  wants  that  remain.  If  the  man  seeks  some- 
thing to  fill  and  warm  his  heart,  all  the  wisdom  of  this 
world  is  only  a  cold  phosphorescence.  He  pursues  its 
waters  like  thirsty  Tantalus,  and  they  touch  his  lips 
and  flee  from  them.  He  must  say  with  Goethe,  "  Alas 
that  the  yonder  is  never  here  !  "     The  tree  of  knowl- 

6 


82  INCREASE    OF    KNOWLEDGE, 

edge  never  becomes  the  tree  of  life.  Man  may  bury 
the  sense  of  this  disappointment  in  intellectual  toil ; 
but  in  some  yearning,  thoughtful  hour  the  conviction 
comes  that  the  head  may  be  filled  with  knowledge 
and  the  heart  be  a  painful  void ;  that  one  look  of  the 
living  God  would  outweigh  acquaintance  with  all  his 
works. 

And  if  the  man  have  an  impression  of  the  value  of  a 
moral  element  in  human  nature,  experience  proves 
how  little  way  he  can  advance  in  moving  others  or 
himself,  if  God  and  the  soul's  true  worth  be  left  out  of 
view.  We  know  what  Christianity  has  done  for  the 
humblest  and  most  abject  by  the  recognition  of  these  ; 
but  we  have  yet  to  see  what  mere  science  and  taste  can 
do  without  them.  To  increase  one's  knowledge  of 
human  nature,  with  the  feeling  that  there  is  no  basis 
of  spiritual  principle  in  it,  —  that  we  are  creating  a 
surface  of  intelligence  and  refinement  with  no  sub- 
stance of  soul-life  beneath,  is  surely  not  an  increase  of 
joy  to  any  one  who  considers  to  what  height  the  pos- 
session of  a  spirit  might  raise  man.  It  is  remarkable 
that  the  great  dramatist  has  made  Hamlet,  who  had 
most  knowledge  of  this  sort,  one  of  the  most  unhappy 
of  his  characters.  To  have  our  view  of  human  nature 
consolatory,  we  must  feel  that  there  is  in  it  a  spark  of 
the  Divine. 

If  the  man  is  desirous  to  have  his  own  moral  nature 
rise  to  a  noble  elevation,  he  must  be  equally  disap- 
pointed with  the  result  of  bare  knowledge  ;  not  merely 
with  what  is  accomplished  by  it,  for  here  we  may  all 
be  sad  enough,  but  with  what  is  promised  by  it.  It 
may  have  its  negative  value  in  occupying  thought  and 


INCREASE    OP    SORROW.  83 

time,  which  might  be  devoted  to  ignoble  uses ;  but  it 
cannot  conquer  passion,  nor  renew  a  nature  that  has 
felt  the  degradation  of  sin.  The  great  heights  of  holi- 
ness may  sometimes  rise  before  such  a  man,  and  the 
sublime  form  of  duty  may  gleam  out  and  beckon  him 
to  the  sun-lit  peak  of  perfection  ;  but  there  is  no  power, 
out  of  God,  to  help  him  to  it,  —  "  The  depth  saith  it 
is  not  in  me,"  and  such  an  ideal,  rising  without  the 
power  or  hope  to  reach  it,  can  only  fill  the  man  with  a 
more  profound  sadness. 

V.  Mere  earthly  knowledge  has  so  brief  a  duration.  — 
Here  we  may  contemplate  life  as  a  whole.  If  the 
thought  of  God  be  admitted,  all  real  knowledge  has 
the  stamp  of  immortality.  His  touch  turns  the  world's 
commonest  things  to  gold,  and  his  image  and  super- 
scription coin  them  in  heaven's  mint  and  make  them 
current  for  all  time.  The  happy  seeker  of  truth  is  he 
who  feels  that  in  gaining  it  he  is  taking  possession  of 
a  perpetual  treasure,  and  beginning  a  quest  which  is  to 
be  enlarged  by  a  new  life  in  new  words.  But  if  there 
be  nothing  of  this,  "  in  one  day  all  man's  thoughts  per- 
ish," —  "  The  wise  man  dieth  and  the  fool  also."  The 
sweeter  truth  is  to  the  taste,  the  more  bitter  must  be 
the  thought  of  leaving  the  pursuit  of  it  for  ever. 

"  It  is 
A  tower  that  crowns  a  country.     But,  alas  ! 
The  soul  now  climbs  it,  just  to  perish  there, 
For  thence  Ave  have  discovered,  'tis  no  dream, 
That  there's  a  world  of  capability 
For  joy,  spread  round  about  us,  meant  for  us, 
Inviting  us  :  and  still  the  soul  craves  all, 
And  death  replies  —  Take  no  jot  more 
Than  ere  thou  climbed'st  the  tower  to  look  abroad." 


84  INCREASE    OF   KNOWLEDGE, 

Now,  it  is  very  true  that  there  are  some  men  who 
pursue  earthly  knowledge  with  unwearied  ardor,  and 
who  seem  to  have  none  of  these  sensations  of  disap- 
pointment in  view  of  what  we  feel  to  be  its  shallowness 
without  a  God,  and  its  shortness  without  an  immortality. 
They  follow  it  with  deepest  interest,  rejoice  in  its  acqui- 
sition, and  die  without  an  apparent  regret.  What  are 
we  to  say  to  this  ?  If  we  knew  all  and  could  pierce 
beneath  the  seeming  indifference,  which  becomes  at 
times  a  philosophical  fashion,  we  might  find  the  same 
instinct  in  them  as  in  other  men  —  the  yearning  cry 
of  the  heart  for  an  infinite  Friend  and  an  eternal  life. 
We  would  rather  believe  it  so.  To  deny  these  high 
hopes  may  be  some  sad  perversion  of  the  intellect,  but 
to  slight  them  gives  a  view  of  human  nature  which 
affects  one  with  something  like  dismay.  If  the  indif- 
ference be  assumed,  it  is  a  poor  enough  affectation  ;  but 
the  learned  as  well  as  unlearned  have  their  weaknesses. 
There  were  great  heathens  who  were  free  from  it, 
whom  the  very  conception  of  immortality  fired  to  enthu- 
siasm ;  and  it  is  a  pity  there  should  be  those,  under 
the  light  of  Christianity,  who  take  this  way  of  showing 
that  they  are  superior  to  vulgar  hopes.  But  if  there 
be  some  who  have  brought  their  inward  feelings  down 
to  such  an  outward  fashion,  and  who  are  really  as 
indifferent  to  God  and  immortality  as  they  seem,  their 
case  cannot  affect  the  general  rule.  Every  man  must 
here  judge  from  the  testimony  of  his  own  nature,  and 
the  humblest  have  the  elements  of  decision  as  near 
them  as  the  most  learned.  In  some  respects  they  have 
them  nearer,  for  the  constant  study  of  material  law 
leads  a  man  to  exaggerate  and  idolize  it,  unless  he 


INCREASE    OF    SORROW.  85 

maintain  that  spiritual  insight  and  that  communion 
with  his  soul  which  are  the  proper  counterpoise.  Ma- 
terial laws  may  be  made,  not  a  window  through  which 
to  look  out  at  the  real  universe,  but  a  dead  wall  to 
hide  it.  After  all,  it  is  a  question  in  which  the  head 
cannot  answer  without  inquiring  at  the  heart.  It  is 
this,  Can  any  progress  of  earthly  science  reconcile  us 
to  the  loss  of  God  and  of  the  hope  of  immortality  ?  and 
we  feel  assured  that,  with  the  immense  mass  of  men, 
when  their  inner  nature  is  truly  consulted,  the  answer 
would  be  found  here  —  "  The  increase  of  knowledge  is 
the  increase  of  sorrow."  Whatever  we  may  come  to 
know,  if  God  be  not,  and  earth  be  all,  "  Vanity  of  van- 
ities "  is  the  epitaph  of  life. 

There  are  others,  again,  who  accept  this  conclusion 
sorrowfully,  in  some  such  way  as  this  speaker  seems 
to  have  done.  They  say,  "  It  is  true  that  the  aspira- 
tions of  faith  are  the  grandest  thing  in  our  nature,  but 
the  progress  of  reason,  in  our  researches,  appears  to 
thrust  them  ever  further  from  us.  Our  eternal  hopes 
are  slowly  perishing  before  the  remorseless  march  of 
science  and  criticism,  and  we  can  but  weep  over  their 
grave."  It  is  impossible  here  to  enter  on  so  large  a 
question,  but  this  may  be  observed,  that  there  have 
been,  and  there  are,  men  whose  names  stand  highest 
in  human  knowledge,  who  have  found  it  not  only  pos- 
sible, but  necessary,  to  unite  science  and  faith  —  to 
believe  at  the  same  time  in  a  universe  of  law,  and  in 
an  infinite  all-controlling  Spirit.  They  have  felt  that 
only  by  admitting  both,  can  they  account  for  the  facts 
around  and  within  them. 

One  way  to  attain  to  this  is  to  look  on  law  not  as 


86  INCREASE   OF   KNOWLEDGE, 

occupying  the  place  of  the  spiritual  element,  thrusting 
it  back,  as  it  were,  from  one  domain  to  another  till  it 
leaves  it  no  foothold,  but  as  itself  the  revelation  of  the 
spiritual  agency  which  is  working  everywhere  and 
always.  God  hides  Himself  behind  law,  and  yet  reveals 
Himself  through  it,  for  every  fresh  discovery  brings  us 
face  to  face  with  power  directed  by  intelligence. 

The  next  thing,  and  still  more  important,  is  to  ques- 
tion our  own  inner  nature  regarding  its  need  of  a  God, 
and  all  that  He  can  do  for  it.  There  are  facts  which 
reveal  themselves  here  as  real  as  any  in  the  external 
world,  and  which  are  far  too  deep,  too  constant  and  uni- 
versal, to  be  set  aside  as  fancies.  In  this  region  the 
greatest  philosopher  and  the  humblest  mind  stand 
upon  common  and  equal  ground  —  the  requirements 
of  the  heart  and  conscience,  and  the  everlastingly  mo- 
mentous questions  of  sin  and  duty,  with  the  whence  and 
the  whither  of  the  soul  of  man.  God  meets  all  men 
here  on  the  same  grand  level,  and  Christ  returned 
special  thanks  for  this,  that  He  revealed  Himself  not 
to  "  the  wise  and  prudent,"  that  is,  not  to  them  as 
such,  but  unto  babes.  If  human  wisdom  has  the  grace, 
for  the  time,  to  forget  itself  and  to  commune  rever- 
ently with  the  sense  of  spiritual  need,  side  by  side  with 
common  humanity,  it  will  find  the  presence  of  a  God 
of  life  and  love  as  readily  as  the  most  unlearned,  and 
then  no  union  on  earth  or  in  heaven  can  be  nobler  than 
that  of  the  lofty  intellect  and  lowly  heart,  fearing  no 
path  of  inquiry,  and  rejoicing  everywhere  to  find  the 
footsteps  of  God. 

Let  this  further  be  considered,  whether  it  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  man  should  be  formed  to  love 


INCREASE    OF    SORROW.  87 

knowledge  and  pursue  it,  and  yet  that  knowledge 
should  only  increase  his  sorrow !  It  would  do  this, 
though  it  were  to  give  him  the  utmost  he  could  con- 
tain of  the  finite,  and  end  by  robbing  him  of  the  infi- 
nite ;  for  the  share  that  a  life's  research  can  yield  us 
of  this  world's  science  must  be  felt  to  be  incalculably 
less  than  the  prospect  of  eternal  progress.  The  man 
would  then  act  wisely  who  followed  the  example  of 
the  magnanimous  king,  when  he  surrendered  all  his 
conquests  to  his  captains,  and  reserved  for  himself  Jiope. 
There  are  some  things,  the  idea  of  which  is  a  greater 
power  and  joy  than  all  material  possessions;  and, 
among  these,  the  chief  are,  God  and  an  eternal  life. 
This  would  be  true,  were  they  no  more  than  an  idea, 
how  much  higher  when  they  can  be  felt  even  here  as  a 
fixed  reality. 

It  is  so,  then,  that  man  is  urged  on  to  the  search 
after  knowledge,  and  nothing  can  stay  him  from  it. 
To  learn  is  one  of  the  deep,  insatiable  thirsts  of  his 
nature  ;  and  yet,  to  learn  on  these  conditions  would  be 
to  grow  in  pain  and  doubt.  Can  an  all-wise  Nature, 
not  to  name  a  God,  have  made  him  thus,  and  estab- 
lished this  everlasting  disharmony  between  the  impulse 
of  his  mind  and  the  craving  of  his  heart  ?  It  cannot 
be  imagined,  and  therefore  there  must  be  a  way  of 
reconciliation.  It  is  to  include  God  in  the  universe, 
and  to  behold  spirit  behind  matter  everywhere.  It  is 
to  feel  that  the  present  life  is  an  education  for  sonls, 
and  that  all  the  mysteries  of  time  can  find  their  solu- 
tion in  eternity.  Then  the  impulse  to  know  is  seen  to 
be  the  gift  of  God,  and  becomes  filled  with  peace  and 


88 


hope.  It  is  there  because  truth  is  to  be  found ;  and 
truth  is  not  death,  but  life.  Creation  becomes  then 
instinct  with  spiritual  meaning,  and  history  receives  a 
key,  and  thought  is  based  on  reality,  and  moral  power 
keeps  pace  with  mental  progress,  and  the  conviction 
comes  that  whatever  is  interrupted  in  the  lessons  of 
this  life  shall  be  resumed  again  ;  for  God's  broken 
tables  are  always  rewritten,  and  when  the  stone  rec- 
ords perish  they  pass  within  into  spirit  and  life.  Let 
us  but  take  God  into  our  system,  and  man's  highest 
ideal  becomes  real,  for  God's  performance  must  be 
above  man's  thought.  If  so  be  that  we  take  God  into 
our  system  —  and  can  we  refuse  this  ?  —  it  is  not 
merely  to  put  a  controlling  mind  into  the  universe, 
but  a  throbbing  heart.  To  reveal  this  to  us,  the 
Divine  Wisdom  left  the  Father's  bosom  and  came 
down  —  "  rejoicing  in  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth, 
and  his  delights  were  with  the  sons  of  men."  His 
life  and  death  and  revival  are  the  power  of  God  and 
the  wisdom  of  God,  and  open  a  new  world  in  the  soul 
of  man  greater  than  that  around  him.  Let  us  but 
take  Him  into  our  heart,  and  how  sweet  shall  all  "  the 
words  of  knowledge  be  unto  our  taste ! "  A  break 
will  appear  in  the  clouds  of  darkest  doubt,  a  new  light 
on  sea  and  shore,  and  the  door  of  death  be  changed 
into  the  gate  of  a  glorious  temple  where  study  and 
adoration  walk  side  by  side,  and  angels  who  know  clasp 
hands  with  angels  who  burn.  If  now  for  a  time  these 
seem  separated,  it  is  but  for  a  time.  The  age  of  faith 
without  knowledge  may  for  a  while  have  its  recoil 
in  the  pride  of  a  knowledge  that  undervalues  faith, 


INCREASE  OP  SORROW.  89 

but  the  soul  must  assert  its  rights,  and  God  cannot  be 
dethroned,  and  light  shall  rejoice  in  life,  and  "  wisdom 
and  knowledge  shall  be  the  stability  of  our  times  and 
strength  of  salvation  —  and  the  fear  of  the  Lord  our 
treasure." 


od  Hccliniwj 


VI. 


1p  k 


'era  of   mxtkt. 


"And  Joshua  said  unto  the  people,  Te  cannot  serve  the  Lord, 
for  he  is  an  holy  God:  He  will  not  forgive  your  transgressions 
nor  your  sins." — Joshua  xxiv.  19. 


1  iC  F  there  be  any  one  thing-  true  in  the  Bible,  it  is 
that  God  welcomes  the  very  first  approach 
which  man  makes  to  Him.  The  Bible  has  no 
other  end  than  to  give  men  the  invitation  to  return  to 
God.  Christ,  who  fills  the  Bible  from  first  to  last,  has 
no  word  on  his  lips  but  "  Come ; "  and  God  himself 
has  declared :  "  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked  ;  but  that  the 
wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live."  Yet  here  Joshua 
offers  a  repulse  to  men  who  wish  to  avow  themselves 
on  the  side  of  God.  Are  we  to  suppose  that  he  spoke 
unadvisedly  ?  He  was  a  wise  man  ;  it  was  a  solemn 
and  well-weighed  occasion  ;  and  there  is  every  ground 
for  believing  that  he  was  under  Divine  direction.  Are 
we  to  conclude,  then,  that  the  people  were  insincere? 
We  have  no  evidence  of  this,  but  the  reverse,  in  their 


GOD    DECLINING   FIRST   OFFERS   OF   SERVICE.  91 

subsequent  conduct.  There  must  be  some  reason  for 
the  manner  in  which  they  are  met,  and  we  shall  try  to 
discover  it. 

First,  however,  we  shall  seek  to  show  that  this  pro- 
cedure on  the  part  of  God  is  not  so  unusual.  If  we 
can  do  so  it  will  bring  the  matter  more  home  to  ordi- 
nary experience,  and  make  the  consideration  of  it  more 
practical. 

A  number  of  instances  might  easily  be  found  in  the 
Bible  of  such  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of  men  who 
offer  themselves  to  the  service  of  God.  You  may 
recollect  how  the  band  of  Gideon  was  chosen.  Not 
all  who  presented  themselves  were  accepted,  but  time 
after  time  the  troop  was  cut  down  till  three  hundred 
alone  remained  as  God's  chosen  soldiers.  When  the 
wise  men  from  the  East  came  seeking  Christ,  the  star 
seemed  to  desert  them,  and  they  met  with  disappoint- 
ment and  perplexity  from  all  their  inquiries  in  Jerusa- 
lem. When  the  Jews,  stirred  up  to  expect  the  coming- 
Messiah,  sent  messengers  to  John,  in  the  hope  that 
they  had  found  their  desire,  "  he  confessed  and  denied 
not,  but  confessed,  I  am  not  the  Christ."  WTe  cannot 
forget  the  strange  treatment  of  the  woman  of  Canaan 
by  the  Lord  himself ;  how  she  cried  after  Him,  and 
was  not  answered,  and  met  at  length  what  appeared  a 
contemptuous  rejection.  In  the  same  way  He  acted  to 
the  scribe  who  came  to  Him  with  such  an  unconditional 
offer  of  discipleship :  "  Master,  I  will  follow  Thee 
whithersoever  Thou  goest."  "This  is  no  common 
pleasure-walk,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  The  foxes  have  holes, 
and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of 
Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head."     And  after  his 


92  GOD   DECLINING 

resurrection,  when  He  accompanied  the  two  who  were 
going  to  Emmaus,  and  they  were  about  to  enter  the 
house,  "  He  made  as  though  He  would  have  gone  fur- 
ther." They  needed  "  to  constrain  Him  "  before  He 
went  in  "  to  tarry  with  them."  Such  examples  might 
be  multiplied  to  almost  any  extent,  and  they  show  that 
coldness  to  first  offers  of  approach  is  not  an  uncommon 
thing  in  the  path  of  those  who  seek  God. 

There  is  another  way  of  finding  the  same  result  in  the 
Bible.  Consider,  for  example,  the  view  that  is  given 
of  the  character  of  God.  He  is  presented  to  us  not 
only  as  good,  and  ready  to  forgive,  but  as  just  and 
righteous,  —  a  God  who  cannot  look  on  sin  without 
displeasure.  For  a  long  time  this  is  the  most  promi- 
nent view.  Sinai  casts  a  great  shadow,  and  prolongs 
its  thunders,  bofore  the  gospel  comes  distinctly  with 
its  still  small  voice  of  peace.  There  are  many  terrible 
threatenings,  many  dreadful  judgments  against  sin  and 
sinners,  which  have  all  this  language  in  them :  "  Ye 
cannot  serve  the  Lord,  for  He  is  an  holy  God."  Even 
in  Calvary,  Sinai  is  not  forgotten.  The  steps  of  the 
earthquake  are  felt  beneath  the  Cross,  thick  darkness 
overshadows  it,  a  piercing  voice  that  tells  of  the  fear- 
ful evil  of  sin  descends  from  it,  and  we  are  addressed 
in  the  gospel :  "  Wherefore  let  us  have  grace  whereby 
we  may  serve  God  acceptably  with  reverence  and  godly 
fear :  for  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire  "  (Heb.  xii.  28, 
29). 

When  we  leave  Bible  representations,  and  come  to 
the  experience  of  individuals,  we  meet  with  many 
similar  illustrations.  In  regard  to  the  general  evi- 
dence of  the  divinity  of  the  Bible,  we  can  see  that 


FIRST   OFFERS   OF   SERVICE.  93 

God  has  not  constructed  it  on  the  plan  of  overpower- 
ing the  conviction  of  any  man  at  first  sight.  Many 
men  feel  great  difficulties  about  it,  and  it  would  be 
false  to  say  that  these  men  are  insincere.  They  often 
come  with  a  true  desire  to  find  God's  way,  and  put 
themselves  among  his  servants,  and  yet  they  are  met 
with  obstacles,  outside  the  Bible  and  inside  it,  which 
keep  them  standing  and  struggling  for  a  long  time. 
There  is  no  use  in  denying  this,  or  in  casting  obloquy 
and  suspicion  on  every  misgiving.  It  is  far  better  to 
be  brought  to  see  that  this  is  in  accordance  with  the 
plan  of  the  Bible,  in  many  other  instances,  —  that 
there  is  after  all  a  way  of  overcoming  honest  doubts 
and  reaching  perfect  certainty,  —  and  that  there  are 
wise  ends  gained  by  the  method  God  has  chosen. 
And  even  when  a  man  has  come  to  the  entire  convic- 
tion that  the  gospel  is  Divine,  that  there  is  "  none 
other  name  given  under  heaven  whereby  we  must  be 
saved  but  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,"  he  is  not  as- 
sured thereby  of  perfect  peace  of  heart.  Many  a  one 
has  to  cry  again  and  again  for  his  soul,  as  the  woman 
of  Canaan  for  her  child,  before  he  is  heard,  or  has  to 
lift  his  voice  like  the  blind  men  by  the  wayside,  and 
has  to  endure  the  rebukes  of  the  passers-by,  and  the 
silence  of  Christ,  till  his  eyes  are  opened.  To  speak 
of  entire  comfort  and  acceptance  being  found  at  first, 
and  always,  when  a  man  comes  to  Christ,  would  be  to 
offend  against  the  generation  of  God's  children,  and  to 
wrong  the  experience  of  many  of  the  most  earnest  in- 
quirers. And  then,  though  a  man  may  trust  that  he  is 
resting  upon  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  and  that  he 
has  been  fully  and  freely  pardoned,  there  may  come  a 


94  GOD   DECLINING 

deep  sense  of  responsibility  at  the  thought  of  taking 
upon  himself  the  vows  of  Christian  service.  There  is 
a  light  and  easy  way  of  doing  it  on  the  part  of  some, 
without  considering  very  well  what  is  required,  or  what 
may  be  the  consequences  to  the  name  of  Christ  if  they 
walk  unworthy  of  it.  Many  profess  Christianity  with 
far  more  irreverence  than  some  others  keep  aloof  from 
it.  The  highest  thing,  indeed,  is  to  feel  it  to  be  duti- 
ful, and  advance  to  it  deliberately  and  in  humble  reli- 
ance on  the  grace  of  God ;  but  there  are  thoughtful 
and  self-distrustful  natures  which  have  long  and  deep 
shrinking,  because  their  eye  has  seen  the  purity  of  God 
and  the  poverty  of  self.  It  was  the  feeling  of  the  cen- 
turion, —  "  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  Thou  shouldest 
come  under  my  roof;  "  and  of  Peter,  when  his  natu- 
ral boldness  failed  him  at  sight  of  Christ's  majesty,  — 
"  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  0  Lord." 
Within  certain  limits  the  feeling  is  true,  and  most  be- 
coming. It  is  God  repeating  in  a  humble  heart  the 
words  of  Joshua :  "  Ye  cannot  serve  the  Lord,  for  He 
is  an  holy  God." 

Second,  Having  sought  to  show  that  this  procedure, 
on  the  part  of  God,  is  not  so  unusual,  we  may  now  at- 
tempt to  find  some  reasons  for  it. 

As  a  first  reason  we  may  assign  this,  that  it  sifts 
the  true  from  the  false  seeker.  We  refer  here  not  to 
arriving  at  the  profession  of  Christianity,  but  at  the 
principle  of  it  in  the  heart.  Many  reach  the  profession 
who  have  never  found  the  reality,  and  some  find  the 
reality  who  never  make  the  profession.  We  speak  of 
a  man  arriving  at  the  root  and  ground  of  Christianity 
in  his  heart  and  character.    It  seems  part  of  God's  plan 


FIRST    OFFERS    OF   SERVICE.  95 

that  this  should  not  be  reached  without  struggle,  in 
order  that  the  spiritual  element  in  the  new  man  may 
be  tested.  We  are  told  of  Christ  when  He  entered  the 
world  that  He  was  "  to  be  set  for  the  fall  and  rising  of 
many  in  Israel,  and  for  a  sign  which  should  be  spoken 
against,  that  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  may  be  re- 
vealed." The  gospel  comes  into  the  world  to  be  a 
touchstone  of  human  nature  —  to  be  Ithuriel's  spear 
among  men.  There  is  enough  in  it  to  attract  and  con- 
vince at  last  every  man  who  has  a  sense  of  spiritual 
need  and  a  desire  of  spiritual  deliverance,  but  it  is  pre- 
sented in  such  a  form  as  to  try  whether  the  soul  really 
possesses  this,  and  therefore  we  may  have  obstacles  of 
various  kinds  at  the  very  entrance.  "  When  Pliable 
and  Christian  came  to  the  Slough  of  Despond  which 
lay  before  the  wicket-gate,  they  both  fell  in  and  wal- 
lowed for  a  time  in  the  mire,  unable  to  escape.  Pliable 
was  offended,  and  angrily  said  to  his  fellow:  Is  this 
the  happiness  you  have  told  us  of  all  this  while  ?  So, 
after  a  desperate  struggle  or  two  he  got  out  of  the  mire 
on  that  side  of  the  Slough  which  was  next  his  own 
house,  and  away  he  went,  and  Christian  saw  him  no 
more.  But  Christian  endeavored  to  struggle  to  that 
side  of  the  Slough  which  was  furthest  from  his  own 
house,  and  next  to  the  wicket-gate,  and  so  he  escaped 
and  came  at  last  upon  sound  ground."  Both  of  them 
met  with  discouragement,  but  this  made  the  difference, 
that  Christian  struggled  to  the  side  of  the  Slough  which 
was  "  furthest  from  his  own  house  and  nearest  to  the 
wicket-gate."  He  did  not  give  up  for  the  first  repulse, 
because  his  desire  was  to  be  out  of  sin,  and  beyond  it, 
and  to  find  God,  and  so  he  "  came  at  last  upon  dry 
ground." 


9b  GOD   DECLINING 

It  may  seem  a  strange  and  unworthy  thing  that 
such  an  obstacle  should  meet  a  man  in  the  very  com- 
mencement of  such  a  journey ;  but,  after  all,  let  it  be 
remembered  that  what  makes  it  an  obstacle  is  the  state 
of  heart  of  the  man  himself.  The  Slough  is  not  so 
much  to  be  found  without  the  heart  as  within  it,  and 
if  one  followed  up  the  matter  to  its  source  we  should 
find  that  the  difficulty  was  not  on  the  side  of  God,  but 
in  the  soul  of  the  individual.  This  further  may  be 
said,  that  no  one  will  be  able  to  complain  of  any  real 
wrong  from  such  obstacles.  The  false  seeker  is  not 
injured,  because  he  never  sincerely  sought  at  all. 
There  was  no  sense  of  sin's  evil,  no  wish  to  be  saved 
from  it,  and  till  this  exists  nothing  can  be  sought,  and 
nothing  found.  The  true  seeker  is  not  injured,  for 
never  was  such  an  one  disappointed.  When  the 
flickering  phosphorescence  glimmers  out,  the  spark, 
although  as  faint  as  in  the  smoking  flax,  lives  on  and 
rises  to  a  flame.  True  need  asks  and  seeks  and 
knocks,  increases  its  appeal  with  every  difficulty,  cries 
after  Christ  like  the  woman  of  Canaan,  and  wrestles 
till  it  conquers  at  the  breaking  of  the  day. 

Next,  it  leads  the  true  seeker  to  examine  himself  more 
thoroughly.  If  a  man  is  accepted,  or  thinks  he  is  ac- 
cepted, at  once,  he  takes  many  things  for  granted 
which  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  inquire  into.  Very 
specially  is  this  the  case  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  sin, 
and  the  light  in  which  God  regards  it.  Almost  all  the 
errors  of  our  time,  or  of  any  time,  have  their  root  here, 
and  it  would  be  well  for  many  to  be  sent  back  for  re- 
flection with  the  words  of  Joshua — "  He  is  an  holy 
God,  He  is  a  jealous  God ;  He  will  not  forgive  your 


FIRST   OFFERS   OF   SERVICE.  97 

transgressions  nor  your  sins."  Not  that  Joshua  would 
lead  them  to  doubt  God's  mercy,  but  he  would  have 
them  to  see  that  it  is  a  more  difficult  question  than 
men  in  general  fancy.  The  easy  complacency  with 
which  some  talk  of  pardon,  and  their  assurance  of  it, 
often  springs  more  from  dulness  of  conscience  than 
strength  of  faith.  They  have  not  stood  and  studied 
the  great  subjects  of  the  sinfulness  of  sin  and  the 
terrible  havoc  it  has  made,  of  the  inflexible  claims  of 
law,  and  the  grandeur  and  terror  of  the  view  of  a  God 
of  justice  of  whose  nature  moral  law  is  an  essential 
and  unbending  part.  They  have  never  looked  on  Sinai 
till  they  have  felt  that  they  are  under  the  curse,  nor  on 
God's  purity  till  they  have  cried  out,  "  Behold  I  am 
vile."  It  is  said,  and  said  truly,  that  a  man  will  learn 
these  things  most  perfectly  in  the  light  of  the  cross  of 
Christ ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  unless  he  knows  and 
feels  something  of  them  already  the  cross  of  Christ 
will  have  no  light  for  him.  We  cannot  think  too 
highly  of  the  mercy  of  God,  or  cast  ourselves  on  it  too 
soon,  but  we  shall  never  understand  it  nor  cast  our- 
selves on  it  at  all  until  we  feel  something  of  the  evil 
of  sin  and  the  claims  of  the  law  of  God.  The  vague 
and  careless  talk  about  a  God  of  mercy,  so  much  in- 
dulged in  by  multitudes,  has  spread  the  conception  of 
a  gospel  that  is  no  gospel,  which  neither  reveals  to  man 
the  infinite  compassion  of  God,  nor  his  infinite  abhor- 
rence of  moral  evil,  deliverance  from  which  is  the  one 
only  salvation.  The  natural  result  of  such  a  defective 
view  is,  that  when  a  man  enlists  with  it  in  God's 
service,  he  does  so  without  any  distinct  idea  of  what 
he  is  to  aim  at.     He  is  very  ready  to  think  that  the 

7 


98  GOD   DECLINING 

great  end  of  the  gospel  is  to  deliver  him  from  a  certain 
amount  of  suffering  and  procure  him  a  certain  quantity 
of  happiness.  He  does  not  see  that  the  gospel  binds 
us  to  the  service  of  a  God  of  truth  and  purity,  and  that 
only  in  this  way  can  its  blessings  be  enjoyed.  When 
we  accept  the  gospel,  we  not  only  receive  something 
from  God,  we  give  something  to  Him.  In  the  language 
of  the  apostle,  "  we  yield  ourselves  unto  God."  Where 
this  is  forgotten  altogether,  where  service  is  passed  by, 
it  is  what  the  apostle  terms  "  receiving  the  grace  of 
God  in  vain,"  and,  where  it  is  put  into  the  back- 
ground, it  produces  a  weak,  sinewless  Christianity, 
which  seeks  a  comfortable  home  for  itself,  and  does 
small  work  for  the  cause  of  either  God  or  man.  It  is 
very  good  for  a  man,  then,  if  he  is  in  danger  of  too 
hasty  acquiescence,  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  ex- 
amine himself  both  about  his  view  of  God's  character 
in  the  pardon  of  sin,  and  what  this  requires  of  him  in 
the  way  of  self-surrender  to  God. 

Further,  it  binds  a  man  to  his  profession  by  a  stronger 
sense  of  consistency.  There  is  a  paper  of  obligations 
put  into  our  hands  to  sign,  and,  when  we  take  the  pen, 
we  are  bidden  read  it  over  and  ponder  it,  that  we  may 
subscribe  with  clear  consciousness  of  the  contents. 
God  will  beguile  no  man  into  his  service  by  false  pre- 
tences. He  stops  us  when  we  would  rush  into  it  thought- 
lessly, tells  us  the  nature  of  the  work,  what  his  own 
character  gives  Him  a  right  to  expect  of  us,  and  then, 
if  we  still  go  forward,  He  can  say,  "  Ye  are  witnesses 
against  yourselves,  that  ye  have  chosen  you  the  Lord 
to  serve  Him,"  and  we  are  compelled  to  own  "  we  are 


FIRST    OFFERS    OF    SERVICE.  99 

meets  with  in  his  course  through  life,  however  difficult 
or  painful,  but  he  might  have  anticipated  it  all  if  he 
had  only  studied  the  chart  drawn  out  in  the  Word  of 
God.  He  need  never  complain  that  "  some  strange 
thing  has  happened  to  him."  If  he  encounters  worldly 
losses,  cross-currents  which  try  his  patience  and  tem- 
per, sore  bereavements  that  lay  waste  his  heart,  it  was 
written  down,  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation." 
If  his  adherence  to  principle  should  make  him  disliked 
by  some,  and  smiled  at  by  others,  he  might  have  known 
it  —  "They  shall  speak  evil  of  you  falsely,  for  my 
name's  sake ; "  and  if  we  have  much  less  of  this  than 
Christ  foretold,  it  may  be  very  much  because  we  are 
not  acting  up  to  what  Christ  enjoined.  If  there  are 
inward  assaults  of  evil  thoughts  or  hours  of  languor 
and  depression,  God's  Word  has  spoken  of  "  fiery 
darts,"  of  "hands  that  hang  down  and  feeble  knees." 
If  sometimes  these  accumulate  and  threaten  utter  ruin, 
we  may  be  reminded  of  "  deep  calling  unto  deep,"  of 
the  "  great  fight  of  afflictions,"  and  that  "  we  must 
through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God."  Probably  none  of  us  realize  these  things  fully 
till  they  come  upon  us,  and  then  we  open  the  Bible 
and  read  it  with  a  new  light,  but  it  is  well  for  us 
to  have  at  least  some  idea  of  them  beforehand,  that 
we  may  be  kept  from  the  murmurs  and  backsliding 
of  men  taken  by  utter  surprise.  And  so,  in  different 
ways,  by  outward  warnings  in  the  Bible  and  inward 
difficulties  of  heart,  God  brings  men  to  a  pause  till 
they  fully  consider  the  case  and  count  the  cost.  Then 
"  we  are  witnesses  against  ourselves."  We  knew  it, 
or  we  might  have  known  it.  We  have  put  our  hand  to 
the  plough,  and  we  cannot  go  back. 


100  GOD   DECLINING 

Lastly,  it  educates  us  to  a  higher  groiuth  and  greater 
capacity  of  happiness.  When  we  see  the  wind  shaking 
a  young  tree,  and  bending  it  to  the  very  earth,  it  may 
seem  to  be  retarding  its  rise,  but  it  is  furthering  it.  It 
is  making  it  strike  its  roots  deeper  into  the  ground, 
that  its  stem  may  rise  higher  and  stronger,  till  it  can 
struggle  witli  tempests,  and  spread  its  green  leaves  to 
a  thousand  summers.  The  winds  and  storms  are  the 
educators  of  the  tree  no  less  than  the  sunbeams 
and  the  dew.  In  the  intellectual  world  a  strong  mind 
thrives  on  difficulties.  There  is  no  falser  method  of 
education  than  to  make  all  smooth  and  easy,  and  re- 
move every  stone  before  the  foot  touches  it.  God  him- 
self has  hidden  the  knowledge  of  his  creation  in  the 
depths  of  the  sky  and  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  He  has 
demanded  toil  and  travail,  keen  and  patient  thought, 
till  study  has  become  a  weariness  to  the  flesh,  in  order 
that  man's  intellect  may  rise  to  its  proper  stature.  It 
would  have  been  a  strange  thing  if  the  spiritual  world 
had  been  an  exception.  Even  in  an  unfallen  state,  if 
there  is  to  be  a  progressive  nature,  there  must  be  strug- 
gle, and  if  struggle  there  must  be  obstacles.  Much 
more  where  the  alloy  of  sin  has  entered  and  needs  to 
be  smelted  out  by  the  hot  furnace.  And,  therefore, 
God  who  sets  man  to  battle  with  Nature,  "  that  hard 
nurse,"  and  to  win  the  bread  of  knowledge  from  her 
by  the  sweat  of  brain,  enters  the  lists  Himself  as  an 
antagonist  to  the  soul,  that  He  may  call  out  all  its 
energies,  and  make  it  a  more  worthy  child  and  heir. 
The  time  is  not  past  when  He  comes  down  to  wrestle 
in  the  seasons  of  the  nig] it  witli  men,  to  be  a  seeming 
opponent  to  them  in  the  great  conflicts  of  the  soul,  and 


FIRST    OFFERS   OF   SERVICE.  101 

not  surrender  his  blessing  until  it  has  sometimes  been 
wrung  from  Him  by  agonies  of  importunity ;  but  all 
the  while  He  wrestles  on  their  side,  and  draws  out 
their  strength  that  it  may  lay  hold  of  his,  and  so  pre- 
vail. Nor  can  we  surely  forget  another  agony,  that  of 
Christ  himself,  which  had  in  it  a  part  that  was  pecu- 
liarly his  own,  but  a  part  also  that  is  common  to  us,  if 
we  are  to  share  his  sufferings  and  enter  fully  into  his 
joy.  Ho  had  his  conflict  with  a  hidden  face,  from 
which  the  veil  could  be  drawn  only  by  strong  crying 
and  tears  ;  and,  in  proportion  as  we  have  fellowship 
with  Him  in  this,  we  become  "  strengthened  with  might 
by  his  Spirit  in  the  inner  man  ;  "  and  then  it  follows, 
as  the  apostle  declares  (Eph.  hi.  16,  19),  that  "  we  are 
filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God."  This  is  the  course 
appointed  to  those  whom  God  would  make  very  strong 
and  very  glad,  and,  so  far  as  we  can  see  in  this  world, 
there  is  a  necessary  chain  in  it. 

Read  the  manner  in  which  such  men  as  Paul  and 
Luther  and  Pascal  passed  through  the  gate  of  life,  not 
easily  and  complacently,  but  with  fears  within  and 
fightings  without,  and  you  will  see  how  God  made  them 
grow  such  men  as  they  became.  And,  though  we  are 
far  distant  from  that  mark,  very  humble  plants  in  the 
garden  of  God  beside  those  great  trees  of  righteous- 
ness, yet,  if  we  are  to  rise  to  any  thing,  it  must  be  in 
the  same  way,  not  by  soft  indulgent  nurture,  but  by 
endurance  of  hardship,  and  pressing  on  against  repulse. 
It  is  very  sore  to  do  it  at  times,  sorest  of  all,  when  the 
coldness  and  repulse  are  from  God.  "  Wherefore  hid- 
est  thou  thy  face,  and  boldest  me  for  thine  enemy  ?  " 
(Job  xiii.  24).     But  it  is  then  that  the  soul's  strength 


102  GOD   DECLINING 

rises  most  conspicuous,  and  becomes,  through  God's 
grace,  competent  to  struggle  with  God  himself ; 
"  though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him."  It  is 
to  this  issue  God  wishes  to  bring  it,  and  then  He  gladly 
gives  way.  "  The  kingdom  of  heaven,"  as  Christ  has 
declared,  "  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it 
by  force,"  that  the  man  may  prove  himself  the  better 
soldier,  and  receive  of  God  at  last  a  brighter  crown. 

It  is  in  entire  accordance  with  all  these  things  that 
a  bar  is  here  thrown,  for  a  time,  across  the  path  of  these 
Israelites,  in  the  words  of  Joshua, "  Ye  cannot  serve  the 
Lord,  for  He  is  an  holy  God ;  He  will  not  forget  your 
transgressions  nor  your  sins."  There  are  most  blessed 
truths  in  the  Bible  which  assure  us  that  God  is  ever 
first  to  seek,  that  He  is  ready  to  save,  and  that  His 
salvation  is  free  as  it  is  priceless  ;  but  there  is  another 
side  of  truth  in  the  Word  of  God  which  needs  also  to 
be  brought  out  —  that  numbers  feel  difficulty  in  enter- 
ing the  way  of  life,  and  that  God  himself  does  not  at 
once  give  them  a  conscious  sense  that  He  has  accepted 
their  service.  If  we  were  to  affirm  the  reverse  it  would 
be  a  false  view  of  the  gospel,  and  against  the  experience 
of  many  who  are  seeking  God  very  sincerely.  I  do 
believe  that  all  the  while  He  is  most  willing  to  receive, 
—  far  more  willing  than  the  seeker  is  to  be  accepted  ; 
but  He  has  his  own  ways  of  leading  men  to  Himself, 
and  may  appear  to  withdraw  that  He  may  attract  the 
more  strongly,  and  to  hide  that  He  may  be  found  in 
truer  and  deeper  possession. 

If  there  be  some  who  have  been  seeking  God,  as 
they  think,  in  vain,  and  have  given  up  the  search  as 
fruitless,  what  can  we  do  but  urge  them  to  renew  the 


FIRST    OFFERS    OF    SERVICE.  103 

application  ?  Come,  as  these  Israelites  did,  with  the 
words,  "  Nay ;  but  we  will  serve  the  Lord."  I  can 
suppose  a  twofold  class  who  have  ceased  to  seek. 
There  are  some,  perhaps,  with  a  feeling  of  wounded 
pride  or  petulance.  They  say  they  have  done  their 
best,  and  it  is  useless.  They  have  gone  through  a 
course  of  inquiry  and  search  and  prayer,  and  they 
have  found  neither  comfort  nor  hope.  Would  it  not  be 
worth  the  while  of  such  to  reconsider  this  part  of  it, 
and  to  see  whether  some  of  the  blame  may  not  lie  with 
themselves  ?  If  the  blame  must  lie  either  in  men  or 
in  God,  it  is  not  likely  that  it  is  entirely  with  Him. 
Are  they  quite  sure  they  have  sought  Him  with  a 
renunciation  of  the  pride  of  self-righteousness,  and 
with  the  desire  to  be  freed  from  sin,  casting  themselves 
on  His  mercy  and  grace  through  Jesus  Christ?  If 
they  can  affirm  all  this,  is  it  too  much  that  they  should 
have  to  wait,  when  God  has  already  waited  for  them, 
and  when  their  waiting  may  be  only  to  try  their  ear- 
nestness, and  to  increase  it  ?  How  much  it  needs  trial 
and  increase,  their  very  conduct  shows.  If  they  still 
refuse  to  seek  God  any  more,  let  them  consider  on 
whom  they  are  taking  revenge.  Their  service  is  not  so 
necessary  to  Him  as  his  help  and  favor  can  be  to  them, 
and  the  time  may  come  when  they  cannot  so  well  want 
Him  as  they  think  they  can.  Still,  "  if  it  seem  evil  to 
them  to  serve  the  Lord,  let  them  choose  this  day  whom 
they  will  serve."  Has  the  world,  its  honor,  its  pleas- 
ure, its  profit,  rewarded  all  the  labor  they  have  be- 
stowed on  it,  or  have  they  resolved  also  to  turn  their 
back  on  it  for  every  repulse  ?  If  men  would  but  seek 
God  and  eternity  with  half  the  earnestness  with  which 


104  GOD   DECLINING 

they  strive  for  time  and  earth,  they  would  not  have  to 
complain  of  want  of  success,  and  if  they  refuse  pee- 
vishly to  follow  after  God,  because  He  does  not  at  once 
meet  their  desire,  it  only  proves  that  they  have  never 
truly  sought  Him  at  all.  Their  poor  excuse  may 
please  themselves  now,  but  it  will  avail  very  little  when 
they  enter  into  judgment  with  Him. 

There  may,  however,  be  another  class  who  have  left 
off  seeking  God,  from  very  different  motives,  not  in 
petulance  but  in  despondency,  who  have  not  so  much 
turned  their  back  on  search,  as  sat  down,  wearied  and 
hopeless,  in  the  midst  of  it.  It  is  very  sad,  and  I 
know  that  earnest  souls  have  often  been  brought  to 
this  condition,  all  the  more  felt  by  them  for  their  very 
earnestness  —  nay,  that  their  deepest  grief  and  fear 
are  that  they  have  never  been  in  earnest  at  all.  Their 
very  grief  is,  to  all  except  themselves,  the  proof  of 
their  earnestness,  and  the  assurance  of  their  success. 
Let  them  consider  that  they  have  to  do  with  One  who 
will  not  break  the  bruised  reed  nor  quench  the  smok- 
ing flax  ;  that  the  heart  of  God  is  with  them  ;  that  the 
darkness  and  death  of  Christ,  now  changed  to  the 
strength  of  intercession,  are  on  their  side,  and  all 
those  heavenly  promises  which  are  Yea  and  Amen  in 
Him,  and  which,  as  bright  and  as  many  as  the  stars  in 
their  courses,  all  fight  for  them.  Let  them  think  of 
Jacob's  wrestling,  of  David's  tears,  of  Paul's  three- 
fold prayer,  of  the  woman  of  Canaan,  of  Christ  him- 
self, who  was  always  heard,  and  yet  had  to  cry  in 
agony;  and  let  them  be  sure  that  if  they  continue  to 
look  to  God  they  shall  be  lightened,  and  find  there 
were  good  reasons  for  the  cloud  and  darkness,  even 


FIRST   OFFERS   OF   SERVICE.  105 

very  abundant  dews  of  God  in  them,  to  prepare  them 
for  coming  sunshine.  And,  if  all  these  considerations 
fail,  let  them  still  take  up  this  language,  "  Nay ;  but 
we  will  serve  the  Lord,"  "  We  cannot  force  from  Him 
a  sense  of  his  favor,  but  we  can  humbly  and  persever- 
ingly  offer  Him  our  service  —  not  as  a  price,  but  as  a 
humble  tribute  to  Him,  whose  we  are  and  whom  we 
ought  to  serve.  On  this  we  are  resolved,  whatever  be 
the  issue,  for  this  is  just  and  right,  and  all  his  own." 
Let  us  bless  God  if  any  one  is  brought  to  this  resolve, 
for  now,  to  say  it  in  a  word,  it  is  to  this  that  God 
would  bring  us.  The  delay  which  Christians  have  in 
gaining  a  sense  of  acceptance  with  God,  arises  often 
from  making  the  sense  of  acceptance  the  main  object 
of  pursuit.  But  there  is  something  higher  —  to  serve 
God  whether  we  have  the  sense  of  acceptance  or  no 
—  to  come  back  to  this  as  the  one  great  purpose  of 
life  and  end  of  our  being :  "  Nay ;  but  we  will  serve 
the  Lord."  If  we  could  only  be  more  concerned 
about  the  will  of  God  than  our  own  comfort,  —  if,  with 
a  noble  oblivion,  we  could  forget  self  and  remember 
Him  and  the  obedience  which  we  owe,  we  should  soon 
find,  "  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing,"  that 
u  glory,  honor,  and  immortality,"  and  present  accept- 
ance with  God,  which  is  the  beginning  of  them,  are 
his  free  gift  to  us  in  Jesus  Christ,  never  far  from  them 
that  wait  for  Him  —  from  the  soul  that  seeketh  Him. 


VII. 

1  fflortdtii  wMKt*  wd  its  f  <msfljuciu:es. 

11  And  Lot  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the  flain  of  Jordan, 
that  it  was  -well  watered  everywhere.  .  .  .  Then  Lot  chose  him 
all  the  f  lain  of  Jordan.  .  .  .  But  the  men  of  Sodom  were  wicked, 
and  sinners  before  the  Lord  exceedingly" —  Gen.  xiii.  10-13. 

p  HAT  Lot  was  a  good  man  in  the  ground  of  his 
character  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt.  The 
Vy^"  course  of  the  narrative  shows  it,  in  which, 
though  sorely  punished,  he  is  finally  delivered,  and  the 
apostle  Peter  (2  Peter  ii.  7)  expressly  terms  him  "just 
Lot,  vexed  with  the  filthy  conversation  of  the  wicked." 
But  good  men  have  their  besetting  sins.  Lot's  was 
worldliness,  and  it  cost  him  dear. 

I.  One  of  the  first  things  we  shall  attempt  to  show 
is,  some  of  the  features  of  the  choice  which  Lot  here- 
made. 

One  of  these  is  this,  that  worldly  advantage  was  the 
chief  element  in  determining  his  place  in  life.  "  He 
lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the  plain  of  Jordan, 
even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  like  the  land  of  Egypt." 


A   WORLDLY    CHOICE,   AND   ITS    CONSEQUENCES.      107 

The  volcanic  fires,  slumbering  beneath,  made  that  vale 
so  fertile  that  its  riches  have  become  proverbial;  and 
the  Jordan,  which  has  now  so  short  a  course  to  the 
Dead  Sea,  then  wandered  through  the  plain,  like 
the  rivers  of  Eden.  Lot's  eye  regarded  neither  the 
dangers  sleeping  beneath,  nor  the  light  of  God  above, 
but  only  the  corn  and  wine  and  verdant  pastures.  It 
is  not  the  part  of  religion  to  teach  us  to  despise  natu- 
ral beauty,  or  make  us  prefer  to  cultivate  barren  soil 
if  we  can  get  better.  Asceticism  is  no  feature  of  the 
Bible,  from  first  to  last.  But  to  make  outward  advan- 
tage the  first  and  main  object  in  choosing  our  path  in 
life,  is  certainly  not  the  guidance  of  the  Word  of  God ; 
and  either  Lot  was  without  true  principle  at  the  time, 
or  he  had  for  the  season  forgotten  it.  Wealth,  or  the 
chance  of  making  it,  is  not  the  one  thing  needful ; 
and  that  man  pursues  a  very  unwise  and  unchristian 
course  who  rushes  straight  at  it,  without  taking  other 
things  into  account.  There  are  many  signs  of  mate- 
rialism in  our  age,  and  this  among  them,  that  the 
acquisition  of  money  is  one  of  the  first  things  which 
men1  think  of  in  choosing  a  profession  for  themselves 
or  their  children.  Our  natural  capability  of  mind  is 
one  thing  to  be  considered,  for  only  as  we  cultivate  it 
can  we  be  most  useful  to  our  fellow-men,  and  most 
happy  in  ourselves.  It  is  not  with  impunity  that  a 
man  can  do  violence  to  his  own  nature,  or  crush  that 
of  his  child,  with  no  other  motive  than  hasting  to  be 
rich.  And  still  higher  than  natural  taste  is  principle. 
The  question,  Can  I,  with  a  clear  sense  of  duty,  enter 
into  such  a  line  of  pursuit  ?  Am  I  not  venturing  into 
relationships  where  it  will  be  hard,  if  not  impossible. 


108 


for  me  to  maintain  a  conscience  void  of  offence  ? 
These  points  do  not  seem  at  all  to  have  troubled  Lot, 
or  they  were  lightly  put  aside  in  view  of  his  material 
interests.  We  do  him  no  injustice,  for  he  remained 
clinging  to  Sodom,  years  afterwards,  though  he  must 
have  felt  the  deleterious  atmosphere.  He  returned  to 
Sodom  when  he  had  lost  all,  and  had  recovered  it 
again  through  Abraham.  That  sharp  warning  was 
ineffectual,  and  he  needed  to  be  forced  from  the  place 
by  God's  destroying  angel.  What  weighed  with  him 
all  the  while  was  that  which  determined  him  at  first,  — 
the  rich  returns  of  the  fertile  soil.  When,  in  any  step 
of  life,  the  readiest  thought  which  occurs  to  a  man  is 
not  duty,  or  benevolence,  or  mental  taste  and  capability, 
but  bare  worldly  advantage,  let  him  look  at  it  well  in 
other  lights.  Such  a  motive,  if  indulged,  is  certain  to 
end  by  shutting  out  his  view  of  all  that  is  high  and 
true  in  life,  and  to  lead  him  into  dark  and  miry  ways. 
A  second  feature  of  Lot's  choice  was,  that  it  betrayed 
a  great  want  of  generosity.  Abraham,  to  preserve  good 
feeling,  proposed  that  their  encampments  should  be 
kept  apart,  and  he  gave  Lot  the  selection  of  place.  It 
was  in  accordance  with  the  noble  nature  of  Abraham ; 
and  had  Lot  shared,  or  been  capable  of  appreciating  it, 
he  would  have  declined  to  avail  himself  of  the  offer. 
But  he  grasped  at  it  eagerly,  and  took  the  richest  side. 
It  may  be  he  had  the  slightest  possible  feeling  of  con- 
tempt for  Abraham's  unworldliness  and  simplicity,  and 
congratulated  himself  on  his  own  shrewdness.  This 
is  one  of  the  mean  things  in  life,  to  gloat  over  a  gain 
that  may  have  dropped  from  the  generosity,  or  may 
have  been  stolen  from  the  simplicity,  of  a  friend  who 


AND   ITS    CONSEQUENCES.  109 

scorns  to  be  always  standing  on  the  extreme  edge  of 
his  rights.  It  is  a  "  blessing  of  himself  by  the  covet- 
ous which  the  Lord  abhors."  And  yet  there  are  too 
many  under  the  name  of  Christian  who  rejoice  to 
"  gather  where  they  have  not  strawed,"  who  snatch  at 
every  favor  without  scruple  or  compensation,  and 
delight  greatly  in  men  of  generous  natures,  because 
they  can  make  their  own  use  of  them.  They  salve  it 
to  their  conscience  by  the  excuse,  "  to  him  it  is  noth- 
ing, and  since  he  does  not  feel  the  loss  I  may  take  the 
benefit  —  if  I  do  not,  another  will."  Whether  the  man 
is  a  Christian  who  can  act  so  may  be  a  question,  but 
this  is  sure,  that  Christianity  has  very  little  to  do  with 
this  part  of  his  character.  One  comfort  we  can  take  is, 
that  if  religion  has  sometimes  its  Lots,  it  has  also  its 
Abrahams ;  and  that  the  Bible,  in  its  narratives  and 
precepts,  shows  unmistakably  on  which  side  its  sympa- 
thies lie.  This  observation  may  be  made  in  regard  to 
such  men,  that  they  are  the  most  unsatisfactory  of  all 
friends,  paining  us  constantly  in  intercourse  by  their 
narrow  selfishness,  and  failing  us  in  the  hour  of  need. 
Love  of  the  world  unfits  for  the  duties  of  friendship 
much  more  than  many  other  faults  that  are  more  glar- 
ing, and  in  forming  our  associations  it  may  be  well  to 
bear  this  in  mind. 

A  third  feature  of  Lot's  choice  was,  that  it  showed 
disregard  of  religious  privileges.  "  The  men  of  Sodom 
were  wicked,  and  sinners  before  the  Lord  exceedingly." 
This  is  said  in  connection  with  Lot's  choice,  as  if  to 
intimate  to  us  that  it  was  full  in  his  view  when  he 
came  to  a  decision.  Their  sins  were  of  a  peculiarly 
gross  and  inhuman  kind ;  and  were  the  growth  of  that 


110  A   WORLDLY   CHOICE, 

very  luxuriance  of  soil  which  made  Lot  choose  it  for 
his  home.  The  prophet  Ezekiel  (xvi.  49)  enumerates 
these  three  causes  of  the  sins  of  Sodom,  "  pride,  ful- 
ness of  bread,  and  abundance  of  idleness."  And  how 
they  are  still  the  parents  of  vice  in  prosperous  com- 
munities we  know  full  well.  It  shows  how  widespread 
and  inveterate  the  wickedness  of  the  community  was, 
that  when  the  fiery  deluge  came  down,  not  one  beyond 
Lot's  family  was  counted  worthy  to  escape.  Can  there 
be  conceived  a  more  unpromising  place  for  a  man  who 
had  a  spark  of  religion  in  him  to  enter,  if  he  wished  to 
keep  it  still  burning  ?  Had  it  been  very  warm  and 
bright  he  would  not  have  ventured  there  ;  for  this  is 
observable,  that  in  general  those  who  have  least  reli- 
gion to  lose  are  most  ready  to  thrust  it  into  danger.  It 
is  very  likely  that  if  Lot  thought  at  all  of  the  question 
of  religious  privilege,  and  the  hazard  of  evil  associa- 
tion to  himself  and  his  children,  he  had  a  number  of 
ways  of  smoothing  his  choice  to  his  conscience.  One 
of  these,  common  enough  yet,  might  be  that  he  was 
going  there  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good.  Their  wicked- 
ness made  it  the  very  spot  for  him  to  work  in,  and  set 
a  different  example.  If  this  were  genuine,  it  might  be 
very  well ;  but  when  it  is  merely  a  pretext,  the  man 
cannot  cover  it  comfortably  from  himself,  and  it  is 
somehow  found  out  still  sooner  by  the  sinners  who  are 
to  be  converted.  Nothing  prejudices  religion  more 
than  to  use  its  interests  as  a  mask  for  covetousness. 
He  who  enters  a  den  of  wickedness  for  the  sake  of 
worldly  profit  is  not  likely  to  make  a  very  successful 
missionary,  and  his  self-seeking  is  sure  to  peep  out  in 
all    his  actions.     He  may  speak  a  great  deal  about 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES.  Ill 

another  world,  but  if  ho  shows  himself  so  bent  upon 
making  the  most  of  this,  the  place  would  on  the  whole 
be  more  improved  by  his  absence.  It  is  a  sad  thing 
that  we  should  have  cast  in  our  face  the  example  of 
many  professing  Christians  who  talk  so  cheaply  of  the 
present  world,  and  yet  show  themselves  so  anxious  to 
buy  it.  For  the  sake  of  religion,  it  would  be  well  if 
they  either  dropped  such  language,  or  adopted  different 
conduct. 

We  cannot  affirm  that  all  this  was  true  of  Lot  to  the 
letter,  but  this  at  least  is  clear,  that  when  he  was  com- 
pelled to  quit  Sodom,  he  could  not  count  a  single  con- 
vert, nor  carry  with  him  one  religious  friend.  The 
best  thing  we  know  of  him  is  what  is  said  by  the 
apostle  Peter,  "  that  his  soul  was  grieved  by  their  con- 
versation ; "  but  if  it  was  so,  and  if  from  fear  of  the 
consequences,  or  despair  of  doing  any  good,  he  had  left 
off  all  efforts  to  reform  them,  the  sooner  he  quitted 
Sodom  the  better.  When  a  man  ceases  to  strive 
against  evil,  he  yields  to  it ;  and  it  can  be  no  one's 
duty,  in  such  a  case,  to  remain  where  his  holiest  feel- 
ings are  lacerated,  his  conscience  deadened,  and  his 
family  exposed  to  the  corruption  of  a  debasing  atmos- 
phere. Unhappily,  the  longer  he  continues,  the  less 
able  he  becomes  to  move,  for  conscience  offers  less  re- 
monstrance, associations  strengthen  their  hold,  and 
the  only  thing  that  saves  him  is  the  shock  of  some  sore 
judgment.  The  more  carefully  therefore  should  every 
Christian  weigh  the  first  choice. 

It  is  not  always  an  easy  question,  how  far  a  man 
should  go  in  surrendering  religious  privileges  when  he 
has   to   select   some   path   of  life.     Every  one  must 


112  A   WORLDLY   CHOICE, 

admit  that  it  is  too  much  left  out  of  account.  If 
a  man  quits  Christian  ordinances  and  friends  for  the 
sake  of  extending  gospel  truth,  let  him  be  sure  it  is  for 
this  end,  and  not  with  the  covert  object  of  gaining 
some  worldly  advantage.  His  own  conscience  should 
be  clear,  and,  if  possible,  the  case  be  beyond  reach  of 
mistake  by  others.  Few  sacrifices  can  be  felt  to  be 
greater  by  a  right  man  than  to  leave  all  wells  of  Chris- 
tian refreshment  behind  him  and  venture  out  into  the 
dry  wide  desert  to  seek  the  lost ;  but  if  it  be  to  seek 
the  lost,  God  will  open  rivers  in  the  wilderness  for  him. 
Let  no  man,  however,  enter  Sodom  for  gain  under  pre- 
tence of  being  a  missionary.  He  endangers  the  little 
religion  he  has,  and  may  come  off  in  the  end  with 
unspeakable  shame  and  loss. 

We  can  suppose  many  a  case  in  which  a  man  is  re- 
duced by  stern  necessity  to  quit  high  religious  privi- 
leges, and  go  where  there  are  few  or  none,  in  order  to 
provide  subsistence  for  himself  and  his  family.  But 
if  he  carries  true  regret  for  the  loss,  and  goes  in  the 
right  spirit,  he  is  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  may  not 
only  have  his  own  religion  preserved,  but  be  made 
useful  in  kindling  new  life.  This,  however,  is  a  very 
different  case  from  one  where  it  is  only  a  question  of 
more  or  less  gain.  The  evil  is,  that  many  Christians 
are  quite  willing  to  run  great  risks  with  their  soul  for 
a  very  little  comfort  to  their  body.  They  do  not  re- 
flect that  there  is  a  "  life  which  is  more  than  meat." 

II.  We  may  now  look  at  some  of  the  consequences  of 
Lot's  choice,  and,  in  doing  so,  we  shall  take  the  three 
features  already  indicated,  and  show  how  each  one 
brought  its  own  stine  and  loss. 


AND    ITS    CONSEQUENCES.  113 

As  he  made  worldly  advantage  his  chief  aim,  he  failed 
in  gaining  it.  We  are  far  from  saying  that  this  will 
always  be  the  case.  If  a  man  be  a  mere  man  of  the 
world,  and  set  himself  to  prosecute  its  objects  at  any 
cost,  he  will  frequently  succeed.  "  Verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  they  have  their  reward."  This  is  their  choice,  and 
they  get  it.  But  if  a  man  is  really  a  child  of  God,  and 
is  in  danger  of  losing  his  soul  from  worldly  tempta- 
tions, his  salvation  may  lie  in  his  failure ;  and  that 
failure  may  sometimes  arise  from  the  compromise  he 
is  attempting.  When  an  utterly  regardless  man  may 
succeed,  another  who  is  encumbered  with  scruples  will 
be  defeated.  This  is  no  reason  why  he  should  throw 
scruples  away,  but  very  good  reason  why  he  should 
not  enter  a  path  where  he  is  so  strongly  urged  to  tam- 
per with  them. 

Now,  see  how  Lot's  choice  came  back  on  him.  He 
grasped  recklessly  at  worldly  advantage,  and  twice  he 
lost  his  entire  possessions,  —  the  second  time,  as  it 
would  seem,  beyond  recovery.  In  the  first  instance, 
the  kings  of  the  East  plundered  Sodom,  and  carried 
off  Lot  and  all  he  had.  "  They  took  Lot  and  his 
goods"  —  an  emphatic  conjunction.  There  was  much 
property,  and  it  was  much  to  him,  for  his  heart  was 
in  it.  No  doubt  it  was  a  sore  blow  to  Lot,  and  was 
meant  as  a  warning  to  quit  the  place.  But  he  refused 
to  take  it,  and  the  stroke  came  next  time  direct  from 
God,  and  with  more  crushing  weight.  He  who  would 
not  leave  Sodom  of  his  own  free  will,  must  be  driven 
from  it  by  the  sword  of  the  avenging  angel.  He  went 
out  poorer  than  he  entered,  and  all  his  wealth  perished 
with  the  men  of  Sodom.    So  when  God  punishes  open 


114  A   WORLDLY   CHOICE, 

sinners,  He  can  judge  the  sins  of  his  own  people  by 
the  way.  He  can  mingle  judgment  with  mercy,  but 
also  mercy  with  judgment,  and  Lot  was  made  to  feel 
it  when  he  fled  from  the  fiery  rain,  stripped  of  the 
labors  of  years,  and  did  not  dare  to  look  behind  on  the 
ruin  of  his  hopes.  If  we  are  God's  people,  and  have  a 
cherished  sin,  He  will  burn  it  in  spite  of  us.  It  is  His 
promise,  "  When  thou  walkest  through  the  fire  thou 
shalt  not  be  burned,"  but  this  does  not  include  the 
evil  desire  of  our  heart.  Nay,  it  must  be  burned  if 
we  are  to  be  preserved,  and  for  this  the  fire  of  trial  is 
kindled.  Lord,  spare  us  not  the  fire,  but  save  us  from 
choosing  the  road  that  needs  it ! 

Next,  let  it  be  observed,  that  as  Lot  failed  in  gener- 
osity to  Abraham,  he  was  repeatedly  brought  under  the 
weightiest  obligations  to  him.  If  this  did  not  make  him 
blush,  it  should  have  done  so.  Lot  took  what  may  be 
called  an  unfair  advantage,  and  trusted  perhaps  that 
he  was  in  a  clear  way  to  outstrip  Abraham  in  wealth, 
but,  ere  many  years  had  passed,  he  owed  all  he  had  — 
family,  property,  liberty  —  to  Abraham's  timely  and 
courageous  interposition.  Abraham  never  reproached 
him,  but  let  us  hope  Lot's  own  heart  did.  Time  came 
round,  and  when  Sodom  was  ripe  for  destruction  Abra- 
ham's voice  was  raised  for  it.  That  Lot  was  there, 
was  no  doubt  one  reason  why  he  pleaded  so  urgently. 
Sodom  could  not  be  spared,  but  Lot  was  rescued,  and 
Abraham's  intercession,  no  less  than  Lot's  own  charac- 
ter, had  to  do  with  that  result  (Gen.  xix.  29).  The 
friend  with  whom  he  had  dealt  so  ungenerously  fought 
with  men  and  wrestled  with  God  for  him,  and,  in  both 
conflicts,  like  a  prince  he  prevailed.     In  his  old  days, 


AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  115 

when  reduced  to  poverty,  it  is  every  way  likely  that 
Lot  was  again  indebted  to  Abraham  for  succor.  Cer- 
tainly, if  it  was  needed,  it  was  given,  and  given  with- 
out upbraiding.  We  may  believe  that  regret  for  his 
past  course,  and  something  like  shame,  filled  Lot's 
heart  when  he  saw  his  own  selfish  conduct  brought 
into  contrast  with  the  noble  character  of  his  friend. 
If  a  man  will  not  blush  for  his  own  ungenerous  acts, 
God  can  make  him  blush  for  the  barren  results  of  them. 
So  old  are  the  maxims  under  which  we  still  live : 
"  The  liberal  deviseth  liberal  things,  and  by  liberal 
things  shall  he  stand  ;  "  "  There  is  that  scattereth  and 
yet  increaseth ;  and  there  is  that  withholdeth  more 
than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty." 

And  then  there  is  this  last,  that  Lot's  disregard  of 
spiritual  privileges  brought  upon  him  a  bitter  entail  of  sin 
and  shame.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Lot's  own 
religious  character  suffered  from  the  long  sojourn  in 
Sodom.  A  man  cannot  voluntarily  expose  himself  to 
the  worst  of  influences,  from  the  mere  love  of  gain, 
without  his  religious  sensibilities  being  deadened  ;  and 
this  only  can  account  for  the  grievous  termination  to 
the  history  of  Lot,  which  is  among  the  most  melan- 
choly records  in  the  Word  of  God.  It  is  one  of  those 
cases  which  we  must  contemplate  because  it  is  there, 
—  very  terrible,  and  very  necessary  to  be  thought  of; 
but  we  would  wish  to  look  at  it  as  Abraham  did  at  the 
ruin  of  Sodom  (Gen.  xix.  27),  standing  in  the  place 
where  we  have  met  God,  and  looking  at  it  "  a  great 
way  off."  There  is  a  general  consistency  in  the  lives 
of  men;  and  such  a  deplorable  spiritual  catastrophe 
could  not  well  have  happened  to  one  who  strove  to 


116  A    WORLDLY    CHOICE, 

maintain  warm  religious  feeling,  and  to  keep  himself 
unspotted  from  the  world.  To  Lot's  family  the  disre- 
gard of  all  religious  associations  was  even  worse.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  he  professed  a  concern  for  their 
interests  when  he  made  his  choice  of  the  riches  of  the 
cities  of  the  plain.  It  was  to  secure  them  a  good  pro- 
vision and  position  in  the  world,  —  for  men  spoke  then 
as  they  do  now.  But  when  such  things  are  sought  in 
the  face  of  principle,  they  may  be  gained  with  lamenta- 
ble deductions.  His  wife  caught  the  infection  of  the 
place,  and  became  in  love,  deep  and  unholy,  with  its 
fashions.  It  may  have  been  her  influence  which  pre- 
vented Lot  from  leaving  sooner,  and,  with  all  the  ur- 
gency of  doom  behind,  he  could  not  carry  her  with  him. 
The  family  of  Lot  mingled  with  the  men  of  Sodom,  and 
learned  their  ways.  When  the  poor  father,  alarmed 
for  his  children's  safety,  implored  his  sons-in-law  — 
"  Up,  get  you  out  of  this  place,  for  the  Lord  will  de- 
stroy this  city,"  "  he  seemed  as  one  that  mocked." 
We  can  perceive,  in  this  closing  scene,  how  much  Lot 
must  have  had  to  bear  from  those  who  were  most  nearly 
related  to  him.  We  know  what  sins  followed  the  fall 
of  Sodom,  and  what  a  salvation  Lot  still  needed  from 
the  fearful  pit  and  from  the  miry  clay  into  which  he 
was  led.  Of  the  remainder  of  his  life  we  know  noth- 
ing. There  are  those  who,  we  have  reason  to  believe, 
were  good  men,  that  pass  before  their  death  into  a 
cloud,  for  our  warning.  We  cherish  the  hope  that  the 
sore  lessons  of  God's  chastisement  were  gathered  up, 
and  that  contrition  marked  the  close ;  but  their  re- 
pentance is  not  obtruded  on  us.  It  would  be  well  if 
some  learned  this  modest  reticence  of  the  Bible,  and 


AND   ITS    CONSEQUENCES.  117 

did  not  parade  before  us  the  boisterous  assurance  of 
notorious  criminals  when  we  would  rather  see  them 
walk  softly  in  the  bitterness  of  their  soul.  The  Bible 
drops  the  veil  of  that  silence,  which  has  its  lesson,  over 
such  cases  as  Adam  and  Solomon,  and  here  also  over 
Lot.  The  root  of  the  matter,  we  believe,  was  in  him  ; 
but  ho  was  one  of  those  good  men  who  teach  us  more 
by  their  faults  than  their  attainments,  —  standing  as 
beacons  on  the  edge  of  terrible  breakers,  rather  than 
moving  like  lights  to  lead  us  to  places  of  refuge,  and 
the  chief  purpose  of  whose  life  seems  to  be  to  show 
how  far  a  good  man  may  go  astray,  and  yet  leave 
ground  for  believing  that  he  was  saved,  as  by  fire, 
through  the  grace  of  God. 

If  there  be  a  life  in  the  Bible  which  warns  against 
the  spirit  of  worldliness,  it  is  that  of  Lot.  There  is  no 
sin  so  insinuating,  none  that  can  hide  itself  under  so 
many  fair  excuses  to  the  self-deception  of  the  pos- 
sessor, and  that  ends  with  more  destructive  results. 
If  it  is  the  sin  of  God's  people,  it  must  be  burned  out 
of  them  in  some  way  ;  but  it  frequently  needs  a  funeral 
pile  of  all  they  have  to  effect  it. 

H  is  a  great  pity  when  a  religious  man  is  marked  by 
a  want  of  generosity.  Self-control  and  rigid  attention 
to  our  means  and  expenditure  lie  at  the  root  both  of 
justice  and  true  benevolence,  and  he  acts  no  Christian 
part  who  neglects  them ;  but  they  are  entirely  recon- 
cilable with  a  spirit  above  all  meanness.  Doing  justly 
is  the  first  step  to  loving  mercy,  and  the  men  in  the 
Bible  who  lived  nearest  to  God  were  most  marked  by 
the  nobility  of  soul  that  seeks  to  owe  no  man  any  thing 


118  A   WORLDLY   CHOICE, 

but  love.  Such  men  were  Abraham  and  Moses  and 
Paul,  and  if  there  were  others,  like  Jacob  and  Lot, 
who  had  the  taint  of  meanness  in  their  nature,  the 
providence  of  God  set  its  brand  on  their  conduct. 
Few  things  would  more  commend  religion  to  honorable 
men  of  the  world  than  that  Christians  should  be  found 
seeking,  not  only  what  is  just  and  pure,  but  what  is 
lovely  and  of  good  report. 

Christian  parents  should  specially  be  careful  how 
they  strive  for  the  worldly  advancement  of  their  chil- 
dren at  the  hazard  of  their  spiritual  interests.  It  fills 
one  at  times  with  a  kind  of  despair  to  see  how  those 
who  profess  to  regard  religion  as  all-important,  subor- 
dinate it  to  almost  every  other  thing  in  life ;  how  edu- 
cational accomplishments,  and  choice  of  pursuits,  and 
friendships,  and  alliances,  are  discussed  and  fixed  with- 
out this  ever  coming  into  serious  view.  Were  it  bodily 
infection,  it  would  fill  them  with  alarm,  but  spiritual 
danger  is  lightly  passed  by.  It  is  one  great  reason 
why  Christianity  makes  so  little  progress,  and  why 
Christian  families  are  constantly  melting  away  into  the 
worldliness  around  them ;  while  the  parents  have  to 
see  their  children  lost,  not  only  to  vital  religion,  but 
even  to  that  strength  of  mind  and  steadiness  of  pur- 
pose which  are  necessary  to  any  firm  position  in  life. 
jBoth  worlds  frequently  slip  from  the  grasp  in  the  mis- 
erable attempt  to  gain  the  false  glitter  of  the  present, 
and  the  bitter  waters  of  disappointment  sweep,  like  the 
Sea  of  Sodom,  over  the  ruins  of  fortune  and  fame 
coveted  at  the  cost  of  consistent  principle.  Let  the 
-kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness  be  sought  and 


AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  119 

maintained  in  the  first  place ;  if  worldly  position 
follows,  it  will  be  honorably  borne  and  usefully  em- 
ployed, and  if  God  does  not  see  fit  to  give  it,  there  will 
be  sufficient  compensation  in  the  pure  and  imperisha- 
ble treasures  with  which  He  can  fill  the  soul. 


VIII. 


Is  l!m 


elfish  ? 


Then  Satan  answered  the  Lord  and  said,  Doth  yob  fear  God 
for  nought  f  "  — Job  i.  9. 


jyJE  shall  not  enter  into  the  question  of  how  we 
r,&{  are  to  regard  the  Book  of  Job,  and  especially 
^0^.  this  part  of  it,  in  relation  to  real  history.  Let 
us  only  say  that,  believing  in  the  personality  of  a  great 
power  of  evil,  we  hold  to  the  general  truths  in  the 
representation  here,  though  veiled  in  dramatic  form. 
The  verse  we  have  selected  is  entirely  in  the  spirit  of 
him  from  whose  mouth  it  comes.  Goethe,  in  the  poem 
which  gives  his  view  of  the  world,  has  depicted  Satan 
more  in  accordance  with  what  we  would  imagine  of 
the  ultimate  essence  of  evil  than  our  own  Milton  has 
done.  His  last  and  lowest  form  is  not  the  defiant 
strength  of  despair,  but  the  weakness  of  a  sneer. 
His  language  here  is  a  scoff  cast  in  the  face  of  God 
against  the  nature  of  the  universe  He  has  made. 
That  universe,  Satan  insinuates,  is  at  its  heart  false 
and  hollow.  What  seems  most  pure  and  beautiful  is, 
when  you   dissect  it,  base  and   vile.     The  man   who 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH?  121 

professes  to  serve  God  is,  after  all,  only  serving  him- 
self, and  is  making  God  nothing  more  than  a  conven- 
ience, a  purveyor  to  his  own  selfish  profit  and  pleasure. 
Man,  he  suggests,  is  a  poor  hypocrite,  and  God  is  will- 
ing to  be  deceived  by  his  fawning  worship ;  for  when 
Satan  strikes  at  man,  it  is  because  he  thinks  he  thereby 
readies  God. 

One  object  of  this  Book  of  Job  is  to  prove  that 
there  is  something  genuine  in  man,  something  genuine, 
above  all,  when  the  grace  of  God  has  entered  his  heart, 
and  this  question  of  Satan's  we  shall  seek  to  turn  into 
another  —  Is  man  entirety  selfish  ? 

Satan  puts  his  calumny,  as  many  people  have  since 
done,  into  the  form  of  a  question.  It  is  evident  how 
he  intended  it  to  be  answered.  God  has  held  up  Job  as 
a  proof  of  his  power  to  put  true  goodness  into  human 
nature,  and  the  reply  is  that  this  seeming  goodness  is 
only  self-interest.  The  man  is  religious  because  he 
makes  a  good  thing  out  of  it.  The  accuser  has  a  belief 
in  the  philosophy  of  selfishness.  It  is  a  faith  not  un- 
common in  our  clay.  There  are  some  who  seek  a 
foundation  for  it  in  argument,  and  wish  to  prove  that 
all  virtue  is  merely  self-interest  largely  and  wisely 
interpreted,  which  is  true  in  this  respect,  that  good- 
ness and  self-interest  will  in  the  end  coincide,  but  very 
false  if  it  is  meant  that  goodness  has  its  origin  in  tak- 
ing this  end  into  account.  There  is  a  school  of  the 
literature  of  fiction  which  makes  it  the  basis  of  all  its 
portraitures  of  human  nature,  which  delights  to  turn 
man  inside  out,  that  it  may  show  his  weakness  and 
hollowness,  and  to  anatomize  him  in  his  best  affections 
and  aspirations,  that   it  may  find  only  self-love  and 


122  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH? 

vanity.  If  goodness  is  portrayed,  it  is  a  goodness  we  can- 
not respect,  without  strength  or  breadth  ;  so  that,  with 
such  views  of  human  nature,  the  theory  of  its  simian 
origin  is  quite  in  keeping,  and  contempt  for  our  fellow- 
men  and  ourselves  becomes  almost  justified.  Provi- 
dence and  prayer  and  Divine  interposition  in  behalf  of 
such  a  creature  become  very  idle  talk  to  those  who  are 
thoroughly  imbued  with  this  view.  The  frivolous 
Epicureanism  of  one  class  of  them  is  balanced  by  the 
bitter  Cynicism  of  another,  to  whom  the  counsel  of 
Job's  wife,  "  Curse  God  and  die,"  seems  the  fitting  end 
of  philosophy  and  of  man. 

We  do  the  literature  of  the  day  no  injustice  when 
we  say  that  much  of  it  has  this  sneer  of  Mephistopheles 
on  its  face,  that  it  ignores  in  man  any  depth  beyond 
self,  and  any  height  that  would  betoken  a  capacity  for 
the  love  and  life  of  God.  In  general  society  we  meet 
with  not  a  few  pervaded  by  the  same  spirit,  who  have 
a  hearty  distrust  of  all  professions  of  religion,  even  of 
the  quietest  and  most  unobtrusive  kind,  a  keen  eye 
and  strong  memory  for  all  Christian  inconsistencies, 
and  a  lurking  belief,  with  the  old  courtier,  that  "  every 
man  has  his  price."  There  is  an  age  when  numbers 
of  the  young  are  in  danger  of  being  carried  away  by 
this  view,  some  from  a  naturally  hard  temperament, 
some  from  the  desire  to  be  considered  shrewd  and 
knowing,  and  some  from  having  trusted  too  readily 
and  been  deceived,  falling  into  an  opposite  and  sadder 
extreme.  The  Bible  itself  has  been  quoted  as  sanction- 
ing the  idea  that  self-interest  is,  and  ought  to  be,  the 
spring  of  human  action.  Sin,  it  is  said,  is  only  self- 
interest  unenlightened  and  wrongly  directed,  and  true 


IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  123 

religion  is  a  proper  and  wise  regard  to  our  own  happi- 
ness. The  threaten ings  and  promises  both  of  the  Old 
Testament  and  the  New  are  referred  to  as  proving 
this,  and  hell  and  heaven,  the  one  as  an  external 
punishment,  the  other  as  an  objective  prize,  are  made 
the  moving  powers  of  the  moral  universe.  It  is  a 
subject,  then,  well  deserving  of  consideration,  and 
surely  very  practical  and  pressing  in  our  time.  We 
shall  look  at  it  chiefly  in  the  last  light  to  which  we 
have  adverted,  —  the  estimate  of  man's  nature  to  be 
drawn  from  the  Bible,  —  seeking  to  free  that  book 
from  the  obloquy  which  has  been  thrown  on  it  by  its 
enemies  and  by  some  of  its  friends.  First,  we  shall 
attempt  to  show  that  selfishness  is  not  the  scriptural 
view  of  the  proper  nature  of  man ;  second,  from  the 
context,  we  shall  try  to  develop  some  of  the  results  of 
a  belief  in  unmitigated  selfishness  ;  and,  third,  we  shall 
point  out  the  means  that  may  be  adopted  for  a  remedy 
by  those  who  are  ready  to  fall  into  this  melancholy 
faith. 

First,  That  self-love  is  not  the  essence  of  human 
nature  as  presented  in  the  Bible. 

Satan  denies  that  there  is  unselfishness  in  Job,  who 
is  described  as  a  "  righteous  man,  who  feared  God  and 
eschewed  evil."  He  would  imply  that  it  is  not  in 
God's  power  to  create  a  disinterested  love  of  Himself, 
even  in  a  regenerate  creature, — that  self-interest  is 
the  hidden  worm  at  the  root  of  every  thing,  good  or 
bad. 

Let  us  think,  then,  first,  of  the  regenerate  man,  and 
see  whether  God's  plan  of  forming  him  proceeds  on 


124  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ? 

the  principle  of  appealing  to  selfishness.  That  plan, 
in  its  great  lineaments,  has  been  the  same  in  all  ages, 
in  the  days  of  Job  as  in  those  of  Paul,  only  that  in 
the  latter  time  there  has  been  a  fuller  development, 
which  enables  us  to  understand  it  better.  We  consider 
it  therefore  under  that  clearer  light. 

Now,  it  is  granted  that  the  Bible,  all  through,  presses 
men  with  threatenings  of  punishment,  and  holds  out 
to  them  promises  of  happiness  to  lead  them  to  a  new 
life.  But  this  is  to  be  remembered,  that  it  begins  its 
work  with  men  who  are  sunk  in  sin,  and  that  the 
essence  of  sin  is  selfishness.  It  must  arrest  and  raise 
them  by  motives  adapted  to  their  condition,  provided 
that  these  motives  are  not  wrong,  and  enlightened 
self-interest,  that  is,  self-interest  which  is  consistent 
with  the  good  of  others,  is  not  wrong.  The  Bible  is 
too  broad  and  human  not  to  bring  all  fair  motives  into 
exercise.  It  is  too  philosophical  to  lose  itself  in  the 
over-refinements  of  some  modern  philosophies  which 
touch  fallen  human  nature  as  a  needle  might  a  coat  of 
mail.  It  has  its  still  small  voice,  but  it  has  its  thunder 
before  it.  The  sleeper  must  be  roused  to  listen ;  and 
before  the  gospel,  and  even  ivith  it,  we  must  have 
Sinai's  word,  "The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die." 
All  through,  in  the  Old  Testament  and  also  in  the 
New,  we  have  the  principle,  "If  thou  art  wise,  thou 
slialt  be  wise  for  thyself."  "  Behold  I  have  set  before 
thee  death  and  life."  We  have  every  one  of  us  felt 
the  power  of  such  appeals,  and  perhaps  there  is  no 
stage  in  the  Christian  life  when  a  man  is  entirely  away 
from  them.  The  apostle  Paul  was  fearful  "  lest  by  any 
means  he  himself  should  be  a  castaway."     But  to  af- 


IS   MAN   ENTIRELY   SELFISH?  125 

firm  that  this  is  the  final,  or  even  the  prevailing,  mo- 
tive of  the  new  life,  is  to  mistake  or  misrepresent  the 
Bible.  If  I  rouse  a  man  from  the  stupor  of  an  opiate 
by  force,  and  prevent  him  for  a  while  from  recurring 
to  it  by  fear,  it  is  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
going  on  to  use  reason  and  the  persuasion  of  love. 
By  these  ultimate  weapons,  and  by  the  spirit  which 
with  God's  help  is  at  last  breathed  into  the  man,  my 
plan  is  to  be  judged.  The  Bible  is  constantly  advan- 
cing from  the  domain  of  threatening  and  outward 
promise  to  that  of  free  and  unselfish  love.  Its  strength 
of  appeal  from  the  very  beginning  lies  in  the  mercy 
of  God  pardoning  unconditionally,  —  a  mercy  which, 
when  the  clouds  are  severed,  is  seen  to  be  the  face  of 
the  Son  of  God  and  the  Man  of  Sorrows  devoting 
Himself  for  those  who  had  no  claim  on  Him  but  that 
of  guilt  and  misery.  He  comes  from  a  throne  to  a 
cross  for  them,  and  we  see  written  on  it,  "  Herein  is 
love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  God  loved  us." 
This  love  comes  from  a  Divine  fountain  through  a 
human  heart,  that  human  hearts  may  feel  the  re-' 
sponsive  throb,  "  We  love  Him  who  first  loved  us." 
When  his  law  is  inculcated,  it  is  not  that  punishment 
may  be  escaped,  but  affection  manifested.  If  heaven  is 
promised,  it  is  not  a  conditional  reward,  but  a  free  and 
godlike  gift ;  and  this  heaven  in  its  essence  is  not  a 
world  of  external  delight,  but  of  inward  joy  in  the  love 
and  likeness  of  God,  and  deliverance  from  that  sin 
and  tyrant  self,  which  are  now  our  prison  and  our 
pain.  As  a  man  rises  into  the  knowledge  of  the  Di- 
vine plan  lie  seeks  and  serves  God,  not  from  the  hope 
of  what  he  is  to   receive  from   Him,   but   from   the 


126  IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH? 

delight  which  he  finds  in  Him, — in  the  true,  the  pure, 
the  loving  that  dwell  in  the  Father  of  Lights,  and  that 
in  their  present  possession  contain  the  pledge  of  eter- 
nal inheritance.  If  they  still  charge  us  with  selfish- 
ness in  seeking  this,  because  it  is  our  happiness,  —  as 
some  modern  philosophies  which  claim  superhuman 
virtue  seem  to  do,  —  we  confess  we  know  not  what  is 
meant  by  the  charge.  We  seek  God  and  find  our  joy 
in  Him  because  it  is  in  the  new  nature  which  He  has 
given ;  but  we  do  not  seek  Him  for  the  joy,  we  find  the 
joy  in  seeking.  Would  it  be  more  unselfish  to  forget 
God  and  seek  sin,  or  coldly  surrender  Him  and  clasp 
annihilation  ?  Would  they  have  us  once  obtain  a 
view  of  that  blessed  and  gracious  face  which  is  the 
sun  of  the  universe,  and  then  shut  our  eyes,  not  car- 
ing whether  we  ever  open  them  on  his  light  and  love 
again,  —  take  one  draught  of  the  water  of  truth  and 
renounce  the  fountain  ?  The  Christian  doctrine  of 
reward  is,  that  if  the  universe  were  on  one  side  and 
God  on  the  other,  we  forsake  it  for  Him  alone, — 
"  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee  ? "  but  to  be  willing 
to  forsake  Him  for  extinction,  and  to  reckon  this  a  proof 
of  unselfish  love,  is  one  of  the  new  objections  against 
Christianity  which  may  be  left  to  answer  itself.  It  is 
curious  how  from  a  very  different  school,  that  of  Jona- 
than Edwards,  a  similar  paradox  at  one  time  issued ; 
and  it  was  held  that  a  Christian  should  have  such  a 
desire  for  the  glory  of  God  that  he  should  be  willing 
to  be  condemned  everlastingly  if  it  would  promote  it. 
The  futility  of  such  a  supposition  is  seen  when  it  is 
put  in  the  form  of  this  question :  "  Can  a  man  so  love 
God  as  to  be  willing,  for  any  end,  everlastingly  to  hate 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  127 

Him?"  These  are  such  unnatural  issues  that  it 
would  be  hard  to  prove  God  could  ever  propose  them 
to  intelligent  creatures,  or  intelligent  creatures  realize 
them  as  possible,  except  in  the  over-refinement  of 
speculation. 

To  return  to  the  line  of  thought :  God  acts  towards 
man  on  the  principle  of  free  undeserved  love,  that  He 
may  form  in  him  the  spirit  and  image  of  his  own 
action,  creating  a  spring  of  self-sacrifice  which  flows 
back  to  God  and  overflows  to  men.  The  Son  of  God, 
who  knows  what  is  in  man,  believed  this  possible.  He 
had  faith  in  human  nature  as  having  great  capabilities 
and  destinies.  He  held  fast  to  his  faith  in  the  face  of 
man's  own  opposition  and  scorn,  of  desertion  and 
treachery.  For  this  He  lived  and  struggled  and  died, 
and  did  not  fail.  He  struck  the  rock  with  his  cross, 
and  streams  came  out  to  freshen  deserts.  He  made  a 
John,  a  Paul,  a  Peter,  a  Stephen  —  hearts  that  drank 
of  the  cup  of  his  self-sacrifice,  and  forgot  themselves, 
and  labored  and  suffered  and  died  like  Him  for  the 
world's  good.  They  have  had  those  who  followed 
them  in  the  hardest  and  coldest  times,  who  have  kept 
the  fire  of  unselfish  love  burning  on  the  world's  hearth 
in  the  deepest  night.  In  lone  spots  of  the  earth,  far 
away,  and  far  down  in  its  misery,  solitary  among  stran- 
gers, and  strangers  at  home,  humble  and  self-forgetful, 
they  have  been  taking  up  the  lesson  of  the  Great  Mas- 
ter, "  Freely  ye  have  received,  freely  give  ;  "  and,  un- 
noticed and  unknown  of  the  busy  world,  they  have 
been  treading  in  his  steps,  to  seek  the  lost  sheep  and 
wretched  prodigal,  with  no  reward  but  the  throb  of  joy 
which  fills  their  heart  and  heaven's   homes  when  the 


128  IS  MAN  ENTIRELY  SELFISH  ? 

wanderer  returns.  It  is  good  for  our  own  hearts  to 
think  of  it,  and  we  bless  them  in  our  inmost  soul  for 
the  faith  to  which  they  help  us,  that  there  is  a  foun- 
tain of  free  love  on  high,  since  such  wells  of  loving- 
kindness  are  springing  here.  While  some  are  taking 
up  the  ancient  sneer  that  all  is  hollow,  and  human  na- 
ture a  contemptible  and  selfish  thing,  and  while  others 
would  bring  down  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed 
God  to  a  bargain  of  so  much  gain  for  so  much  service, 
they  have  been  calmly  pursuing  their  way,  reckoning 
neither  of  profit  nor  praise,  but  "  counting  all  things 
loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus 
their  Lord." 

It  is  certain,  then,  that  the  Bible  proceeds  on  the 
principle  of  creating  unselfish  action  in  the  regenerate 
heart.  But  we  have  this  farther  to  remark,  that,  even 
in  the  case  of  unregenerate  men,  the  Bible  does  not 
affirm  that  the  only  law  at  work  is  one  of  utter  selfish- 
ness. It  is  true  that  the  whole  Bible  scheme  is  based 
on  the  doctrine  of  the  fall  and  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture. Man  is  corroded  to  the  core  by  sin,  and  needs  a 
reconstruction  which  is  described  as  a  new  creation. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  elements  of  hu- 
man nature  are  still  there.  They  are  not  annihilated, 
neither  are  they  demonized.  The  deep  radical  defect 
is  God-ward,  that  man  has  by  nature  ceased  to  retain 
Him  in  his  knowledge,  and  has  expelled  his  love  from 
his  heart.  But  the  temple,  though  shattered  and  empty 
of  its  divinity,  has  the  fragments  of  its  original  great- 
ness strewed  around.  The  tree,  though  uprooted,  con- 
tinues to  send  forth  shoots  and  blossoms  from  the 
lingering  of  the  original  sap  which  God  does  not  suffer 


IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  129 

yet  to  die.  If  God  continue  permanently  excluded, 
die  it  must  ;  but,  while  the  world  remains,  there  shines 
many  a  fair  tint  on  human  nature,  as  there  streams  a 
fading  beauty  from  the  sun  upward  on  the  sky  he  has 
left.  Whatever  unrenewed  men  may  be  to  God,  —  alas, 
how  cold  and  ungrateful !  —  they  perform  to  their  fel- 
low-men, oftentimes,  the  most  unselfish  acts.  They  give 
hoping  to  receive  nothing  again.  They  relieve  suffer- 
ing, they  extend  sympathy  to  the  poor  and  naked, 
they  labor  perseveringly  and  unostentatiously,  and  fre- 
quently shame  those  who  call  themselves  Christians  in 
their  promptness  and  generosity.  The  Bible,  which  is 
a  broad  and  candid  book,  so  different  from  the  narrow- 
ness of  many  of  its  opponents  and  of  not  a  few  of  its 
friends,  delights  to  recognize  this,  and  records  the  gen- 
uine and  the  kindly  in  unrenewed  men.  Over  against 
Abraham,  sometimes  in  contrast  with  him,  stands  the 
courteous  generosity  of  Ephron  the  Hittite  and  the  can- 
dor of  Abimelech.  Naaman  the  Syrian  is  brought  in 
from  the  Gentile  world,  and  we  have  glimpses  into  his 
bearing  to  home  and  friends  which  tell  us  of  a  true 
and  noble  human  heart.  "  The  barbarians,"  the  ship- 
wrecked apostle  says,  "  showed  us  no  little  kindness  ;  " 
and  Roman  centurions  pursued  a  course  of  strict  integ- 
rity and  tender  care  toward  him  which  rebuked  those 
who  professed  to  deal  with  him  according  to  the  Word 
of  God.  There  was  a  young  man  who  came  to  Christ, 
of  whom  it  is  said  that  "  looking  on  him,  Jesus  loved 
him."  There  was  in  him,  notwithstanding  the  fatal 
defect,  something  so  amiable  and  truthful ;  and  our 
own  experience  tells  us  of  not  a  few  on  whom  we  have 
looked  with  wistful  regret,  that  they  should  have  all 

9 


130  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH? 

the  setting  of  fairest  human  jewels,  of  loveliness  and 
grace,  while  in  the  centre,  the  absence  of  the  one  thing 
needful,  the  pearl  of  price,  revealed  a  profound  and  ir- 
reparable blank.  The  Bible  view  of  man  is  sad  enough, 
—  without  God  in  the  world,  wanting  that  hold  of  Him 
which  is  necessary  to  give  the  beauty  that  remains 
principle  and  permanence,  unable  in  his  kindness  to 
his  fellow-man  to  do  him  the  deepest  kindness,  and  "  to 
care  for  his  soul,"  averse  to  send  the  roots  of  his  affec- 
tions, or  to  turn  the  thoughts  of  others  to  the  eternal 
and  unseen  ;  but  let  us  thank  God  that  He  has  not  left 
human  nature  without  gleams  of  his  own  kindness  still 
reflected  from  it,  that  even  in  its  ruin  He  has  made  it 
something  not  to  be  scoffed  at  and  scorned,  but  to  be 
regarded  reverently,  compassionately,  and  hopefully, 
as  that  which  retains  the  glimmering  relics  of  a  prime- 
val glory,  and  the  tokens  of  what,  through  the  grace 
of  God,  may  be  renewal  to  a  loftier  height.  Neither 
let  us  think  that  we  discredit  the  gospel,  by  seeming  to 
leave  these  fair  features  of  humanity  outside  its  regen- 
erating circle,  but  let  us  rather  widen  that  circle  to 
embrace  them,  and  believe  that,  if  there  is  any  thing 
glorious  upon  earth,  or  beautiful  in  humanity,  we  owe 
it  to  the  power  of  Christ's  death  and  the  breath  of  his 
intercession.  If  the  tree  is  there,  with  its  leaves  and 
blossoms,  but  wanting  fruit,  so  attractive  in  its  fair- 
ness, so  saddening  in  its  defect,  it  is  his  prayer  which 
keeps  it  living,  "  Let  it  alone."  All  that  is  good  on 
earth  is  also  ours  to  rejoice  in,  and  we  claim  it  for  God, 
not  only  as  made  by  Him  in  creation,  but  as  spared 
through  the  grace  of  Him  who  is  fairer  than  the  chil- 
dren of  men,  and   who  works  and  waits  and  wearies 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY  SELFISH  ?  131 

not,  that  He  may  include  all  beautiful  things  in  the 
innermost  circle  of  his  redeemed. 

Christianity,  then,  while  it  is  far  removed  from  that 
shallow  view  of  man  which  sees  little  or  nothing  wrong 
in  his  constitution  and  relation  to  God,  is  equally  dis- 
tant from  that  sceptical  and  bitter  estimate  which  pro- 
fesses to  analyze  his  nature,  —  to  find  no  more  than  a 
mixture  of  vanity  and  selfishness. 

Second,  We  have  to  show  from  the  context  the  results 
of  a  belief  in  unmitigated  selfishness.  We  shall  take  the 
character  of  the  accusing  spirit  here  for  an  illustration 
of  these  results. 

The  first  evident  consequence  in  him  who  holds  it  is 
a  want  of  due  regard  for  his  fellow-creatures.  This  is  a 
faint  enough  way  of  putting  it,  so  far  as  Satan  is  con- 
cerned, the  spirit  that  moves  through  the  world,  deceiv- 
ing and  destroying,  of  whom  Christ  has  said,  "  He  was 
a  murderer  from  the  beginning,  and  abode  not  in  the 
truth,  because  there  is  no  truth  in  him."  With  no 
belief  in  principle  or  goodness,  he  can  cherish  no  rever- 
ence and  feel  no  pity.  All  may  be  treated  remorse- 
lessly where  all  are  so  contemptible.  The  belief  and 
the  moral  nature  must  in  the  end  come  into  harmony ; 
and  where  a  spirit  sets  itself  only  to  doubt  and  deny, 
it  sets  itself  also  to  tempt  and  seduce.  It  must  prove 
its  own  theory  valid.  Hence,  probably,  what  otherwise 
seems  insanity  —  the  temptation  of  the  son  of  God,  in 
whom  there  was  no  shade  of  sin.  The  mocking  and 
sceptical  spirit,  which  feels  nothing  but  hollowness 
within,  sees  nothing  else  around  and  above  it,  and  be- 
lieves it  possible  to  drag  all  that  seems  to  be  higher 
down  to  its  own  level. 


132  IS   MAN   ENTIRELY   SELFISH? 

And  in  so  far  as  such  a  view  of  human  nature  enters 
into  any  man,  it  must  produce  like  results.  It  may 
have  much  to  counteract  it,  in  a  natural  kindliness  of 
heart,  but  it  must  always  stand  between  the  man  and 
a  deep  genuine  love  for  his  race.  In  the  mildest  form, 
it  can  only  scatter  round  temporary  benefits  with  a 
cynical  compassion,  as  we  do  among  creatures  which 
suffer  a  little,  to  perish  and  pass  away  for  ever.  In 
colder  natures  it  becomes  selfish  indifference ;  in  the 
more  energetic,  misanthropy  ;  and  in  the  vicious,  it  is 
the  spirit  of  seduction  without  compunction  or  remorse. 
If  ever  we  are  to  labor  trulv  for  the  highest  o'ood  of  our 
fellow-creatures,  we  must  learn  to  take  reverent  and 
loving  views  of  them.  The  deeper  and  higher  our  es- 
timate of  the  soul  of  man,  the  more  shall  we  be  filled 
with  the  pity  and  awe  that  are  the  strength  of  persever- 
ing labor  in  its  behalf;  and  the  more  shall  we  share 
the  mind  and  help  the  work  of  Him,  who,  knowing  the 
soul's  value,  died  for  its  eternal  good. 

The  next  consequence  to  the  spirit  which  has  no  be- 
lief in  unselfishness  is  the  want  of  any  centre  of  rest 
within  itself.  The  condition  of  Satan  is  thus  described, 
verse  7 :  "  And  the  Lord  said  unto  Satan,  Whence 
comest  thou  ?  Then  Satan  answered  the  Lord,  and 
said,  From  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  and  from 
walking  up  and  down  in  it."  Incessant  wandering, 
"  going  about,"  "  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,"  is  the 
view  given  of  him  in  Scripture.  There  is  the  constant 
endeavor  to  find  a  fixed  point,  and  inability  to  discover 
it ;  and  this  may  be  the  truth  intended  to  be  conveyed 
in  that  strange  but  significant  narrative  (Matt.  viii. 
28),  where  the  evil  spirit  is  urged  from  place  to  place 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  133 

by  the  conquering  power  of  good,  till  it  is  driven  to 
beg  for  a  refuge  in  the  lowest  and  most  grovelling 
forms  of  creation,  —  to  find  itself,  even  here  too,  re- 
jected, and  cast  forth  naked  and  shelterless.  This  is 
most  certain,  that  if  the  heart  does  not  give  quiet,  no 
place  in  the  universe  can,  and  the  personal  head  of  evil 
has  been  for  ages  making  the  attempt  to  find  that  quiet 
in  vain. 

And  in  the  proportion  in  which  a  man  partakes  of 
this  view,  comfort  must  flee  from  him.  It  is  love  alone 
that  can  give  the  heart  any  place  of  repose.  This  is 
the  ark  it  turns  to  when  wearied  with  fluttering  over  a 
shoreless  sea.  But  there  can  be  no  ark  .where  the 
world  is  believed  to  be  in  its  essence  false  and  hollow ; 
where  pleasant  courtesies  are  flowers  that  clasp  across 
and  cover  fathomless  gulfs  ;  where  friendships  last  as 
long  as  there  is  mutual  benefit,  and  are  chilled  to  frost 
by  a  few  years'  absence.  The  man  who  believes  this, 
and  yet  yearns  after  true  and  deep  affection,  is  wretched 
indeed,  —  pining  for  a  treasure  not  to  be  found  in  the 
universe ;  and  if  he  does  not  yearn  after  it  he  is  more 
wretched  still.  Can  the  man  be  satisfied  who  does  not 
find  in  the  whole  world  a  place  where  he  can  trust  his 
heart  ?  Nay,  more,  such  a  man,  if  he  reflects,  must  turn 
round  and  loathe  himself.  He  cannot  have  the  vanity  to 
believe  that  he  is  the  only  exception  to  the  rule  of  self- 
ishness. The  nature  he  sees  in  others  is  his  own,  and, 
do  what  he  may,  he  cannot  escape  from  it,  or  rise  above 
it.  Analyze  every  thing,  analyze  his  own  best  feelings, 
and  he  comes  at  last  only  to  self  —  refined,  it  may  be, 
sublimated  to  the  most  ethereal  essence,  but  ever  self, 
and  nothing  more.     Can  there  be  a  more  frightful  sol- 


134  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY  SELFISH? 

itude  than  this,  —  to  be  convinced  that  no  perfectly 
disinterested  love  can  ever  pass  from  any  heart  over 
into  his,  and,  what  is  worse,  that  none  can  pass  from 
his  over  into  any  other  ?  Can  there  be  a  more  ghastly 
universe  than  one  where,  under  every  damask  rose, 
this  hideous  worm  is  lurking,  and  where  the  boast  of 
the  advanced  philosophy  is  to  discover  that  it  is  inevi- 
table ?  Worse,  is  it  not,  than  the  old  Northern  legend 
of  the  snake  that  coils  its  scaly  folds  round  the  roots 
of  the  tree  of  life  ?  If  such  men  live,  and  live  without 
betraying  their  pain,  it  must  be  because  they  drown  the 
thought  in  occupation,  or  have  resigned  themselves  to 
a  settled  despair,  or  contrive,  with  that  curious  incon- 
sistency which  belongs  to  us  all,  to  live  above,  as  some 
others  live  below,  their  theory. 

There  is  still  another  effect  to  be  remarked  of  this 
want  of  belief  in  unselfishness  —  the  failure  of  any  real 
hold  on  a  God.  It  was  so  with  the  great  spirit  of  evil. 
He  could  not  deny  God's  existence.  This  was  too 
plainly  forced  in  upon  him  and  felt  by  him,  but  he  had 
no  just  views  of  a  God  of  truth  and  purity  and  good- 
ness, else  he  had  never  continued  so  to  resist  Him. 
He  had  a  belief  that  made  him  tremble,  but  that  never 
stirred  him  up  to  lay  hold  on  God,  because  he  saw 
only  heartless  power  seated  on  the  throne  of  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  within  the  sphere  of  every  spirit  to  make 
and  maintain  its  own  world  and  its  own  God,  and  the 
God  it  makes  bears  the  character  of  its  world. 

In  as  far,  too,  as  any  man  comes  to  look  upon  all 
human  nature  as  mean  and  selfish,  he  is  on  the  way  to 
lose  faith  in  God's  true  character,  and  even  in  his  exist- 
ence.    To  perceive  and  feel  genuine  goodness  in  man 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH?  135 

is  to  be  prepared  to  believe  in  God,  —  for  whence  could 
this  come  but  from  the  Father  of  lights  ?     If  any  one 
has  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  there  is  such  a  thins: 
as  disinterested  self-sacrificing  love  in  the  world,  he 
must  surely  feel  that  this  is  the  product  of  something 
more  than  dead  matter.     Refined  matter  may  give  re- 
fined self-love,  but  never  self-sacrifice.    This  is  the  glo- 
rious attribute  of  spirit,  the  reflected  ray  of  the  Divine, 
and  may  lead  us  up  to  God,  as  the  colors  of  the  earth, 
in  field  and  flower,  lead  our  eyes  to  the  fountain  of  life. 
When  the  people  saw  Christ's  miracles  "  they  praised 
God  who  gave  such  power  to  man  ;  "  and  much  more 
may  we  when  we  see  truth  and  mercy  and  self-devotion 
in  men,  for  these  are  greater  than  all  miracles,  and 
have  the  very  essence  of  God  in  them.     Therefore  we 
are  bound  to  thank  Him  for  every  disinterested  act 
performed  by  any  man,  for  every  generous  and  heroic 
deed,  for  the  search  after  truth,  simply  because  it  is 
truth,  by  those  great  minds  that  seek  her  as  hid  treas- 
ure, for  unpaid  devotion  to  the  cause  of  suffering  and 
want,  for  the  blessed  feet  that  seek  out  shame  and  sin, 
and  the  lips  that  plead  with  them  to  bring  them  home 
contrite  and  forgiven.     These  are  all  testimonies  to 
the  greatness  of  the  soul  of  man,  and  therefore  to  the 
being  of  God.     Those  footsteps  are  echoes  of  the  feet 
of  Him  who  went  about  doing  good,  and  help  us  to 
believe  that  He  once  walked  our  earth. 

For  this  reason  also  we  cannot  think  the  love  to  any 
human  friend  can  be  too  great  if  it  does  not  keep  the 
soul  from  looking  upward,  nor  any  sorrow  for  bereave- 
ment too  deep  if  it  does  not  sink  into  despair  of  God. 
We  take  pleasure  in  the  measureless  affections,  even  in 


136  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH? 

the  fathomless  griefs  of  the  spirit,  because  they  assure 
us  of  Him  who  made  it,  and  for  what  it  is  made,  and 
tell  us  of  an  Infinite  that  can  heal  all  wounds  and  fill 
up  all  yearning  desires.  But  if  a  man  beholds  no 
light  reflected  round  him,  can  he  see  light  dawning 
anywhere  ?  If  he  can  find  only  self-love  in  man,  well 
directed  it  may  be,  fairly  concealed  or  beautifully 
refined,  but  still  self-love  and  nothing  more,  what  God 
would  He  be  who  has  either  not  the  power  or  not  the 
will  to  make  a  creature  of  a  nobler  kind  ?  What 
comfort  would  there  be  in  a  sun  which  rays  off  its 
beams  into  the  unreflecting  and  eternal  dark,  a  life 
which  beats  with  all  its  tide  of  love  against  the  walls  of 
everlasting  sepulchres  ?  The  man  who  has  come  to 
take  this  view  of  the  universe  would  ere  long  extend  it 
to  the  great  God  himself,  and  think  of  Him  as  alto- 
gether like  his  world,  or  cease  to  hold  his  existence  as 
a  thing  of  price. 

It  is  so,  then,  that  a  man  fills  the  world  beyond  the 
skies  with  the  properties  of  the  world  he  sees  around 
and  feels  within  him.  As  he  comes  to  know  and  be 
sure  that  there  is  more  than  dead  matter  or  barren 
self,  that  there  are  disinterested  love  and  unbought 
sympathy  and  boundless  longings  which  spurn  the 
false  and  soar  above  the  finite,  he  becomes  convinced 
that  the  source  of  them  all  must  be  in  an  infinite 
Spirit,  and  the  end  of  them  in  an  eternal  life.  What 
comes  from  Him  must  go  back  to  Him  again,  according 
to  its  kind  —  that  which  is  clothed  with  outward  beauty 
to  be  changed  as  a  vesture  and  again  unfolded,  that 
which  feels  the  pulsations  of  his  own  life  to  be  taken 
home  to  his  heart  and  satisfied  with  his  likeness. 


IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH?  137 

And  therefore  it  is  that  every  one  who  values  the 
highest  interests  of  his  race  must  look  with  deep  pity 
upon  the  efforts  of  many  whose  chief  aim  it  seems  to 
be  to  depreciate  humanity,  and  to  show  their  ingenu- 
ity only  by  repeating,  in  every  varied  form,  the  old 
question  of  the  mocking  spirit,  "  Doth  Job  fear  God 
for  nought  ?"  There  is  a  literature  which  makes  it  its 
pleasure  to  depict  affection  that  it  may  trace  its  slow 
decline,  and  to  analyze  human  nature  that  it  may 
exhibit  its  meanness,  which  when  it  paints  goodness 
gives  us  the  superficial  gilding  of  a  paltry  amiability, 
and  puts  heart  after  heart  into  its  crucible  that  it  may 
reduce  all  to  dross.  It  passes  with  many  for  deep 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  finds  its  refrain  from 
some  worn-out  men  of  pleasure  who  repeat  "  vanity  of 
vanities  "  with  another  aim  than  the  u  Preacher,"  and 
from  some  younger  men  who  affect  the  worn-out  style 
as  lending  them,  at  an  easy  price,  the  air  of  insight 
and  old  experience.  After  all,  it  is  a  shallow  philoso- 
phy, and  unhappy  as  shallow,  which  degrades  human 
nature  and  casts  doubt  on  the  Divine,  and  leaves  us  to 
infer  that  dust  and  ashes  are  all  that  is. 

Third,  We  shall  pass  on  to  consider  some  means  that 
may  be  adopted  as  a  remedy  by  those  who  are  in  danger 
of  falling  into  this  faith. 

If  we  wish  to  strengthen  our  conviction  in  reality 
and  unselfishness,  we  should  seek  as  much  as  possible 
to  bring  our  own  life  into  close  contact  with  ivhat  is 
genuine  in  our  fellow-men.  We  cannot  help  measuring 
the  great  world  by  the  little  world  of  our  experience, 
and  we  have  the  choice  of  this  so  far  in  our  company 
and  our  friendships.     Whatever  books  may  do  for  us, 


138  IS   MAN   ENTIRELY   SELFISH? 

our  nature  cannot  be  right  and  healthy  without  inter- 
course with  living  hearts,  and  the  more  intimate  it  is 
with  what  is  best  there,  the  safer  we  shall  be  from 
these  degrading  views.  We  shall  always  have  means 
at  hand  by  which  to  disprove  them.  There  is  little 
doubt  that  Rochefoucauld  and  Chesterfield  took  their 
view  of  life  from  what  came  under  the  courtier's  eye, 
neither  the  true  nor  favorable  way  of  understanding 
it.  Had  they  been  able  to  come  close  to  a  different 
class,  to  those  who  need  the  cup  of  cold  water  without 
importuning  it,  and  to  those  who  bestow  it  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  to  the  friendship  and  the  affection  which 
give  proof  of  their  genuineness  in  having  no  favor  to 
ask  and  much  love  to  render,  it  might  have  modified 
their  opinion.  We  know  of  few  things  better  for  those 
who  are  ready  to  lose  their  perception  of  the  real  in 
the  midst  of  the  masks  of  conventionalism  than  to 
cultivate  some  acquaintance  with  the  humble  God- 
fearing poor,  and  to  study  the  offices  which  want 
renders  to  want,  together  with  the  work  which 
Christian  mercy  is  carrying  on  there  in  its  own  quiet, 
unwearied  way.  In  our  friendships  let  us  withdraw 
from  those  who  love  the  false  and  artificial,  and  cleave 
to  those  who  are  striving  to  base  their  life  on  truth 
and  principle,  and,  in  our  own  conduct,  let  us  beware 
of  having  a  pretence  and  profession  beyond  what  we 
really  are.  Many  men,  without  being  hypocrites  at 
heart,  surround  themselves  with  an  atmosphere  of  in- 
sincerity in  the  intercourse  of  life  which  destroys  to 
that  extent  their  faith  in  the  reality  of  others.  Let  us 
not  pretend  to  more  than  we  have  and  are.  Those 
who  have  homes  should  specially  seek  to  keep  them 


IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  139 

free  from  every  thing  that  is  false.  To  accustom  the 
young  to  the  view  of  double  dealing  in  those  whom 
God  has  taught  them  first  to  revere  is  to  sap  the 
foundation  of  all  faith.  That  God  set  the  "  solitary 
in  families,"  that  He  made  a  world  with  a  father  and 
mother,  with  brothers  and  sisters  in  it,  and  caused 
such  pure  affection  to  well  up  from  these  fountains,  is 
his  way  of  helping  us  to  believe  in  genuine  love.  And 
yet  it  may  be  remarked  here  that  while  a  home  and 
children  were  intended  to  make  men  believers  in  un- 
selfishness, some  men  may  use  them  so  that  selfishness 
may  grow.  They  may  be  made  a  more  subtle  means 
for  the  exercise  of  vanity  and  egotism.  They  should 
not  close  the  door  of  the  heart  to  the  outside  world, 
but  open  it  more  widely.  If  so  used  and  filled  with 
truth  and  pure  affection,  the  family  may  be  made  the 
best  of  human  agencies  for  destroying  the  unhappy 
distrust  in  all  reality.  Happy  is  the  man  who,  when 
the  outer  streams  become  turbid,  "  can  drink  waters 
out  of  his  own  cistern,  and  running  waters  out  of  his 
own  well ;  "  and  happy  next  is  he  who,  when  trans- 
parency seems  to  meet  him  no  more  in  his  later 
course,  has  such  a  fountain  of  purity  to  look  back 
upon  in  an  early  home. 

Next  to  the  cultivation  of  society  and  friendships 
among  living  men,  we  may  mention  the  choice  of  books. 
These  do  not  come  so  close  as  living  men,  but  they 
open  up  a  wider  field.  There  is  a  literature  of  the  day, 
to  which  we  have  already  made  reference,  which  spends 
its  strength  in  reproducing  the  faults  and  foibles  of 
human  nature,  and  which  boasts  of  being  thorough 
when  it  lays  bare  sores    and    anatomizes    gangrenes. 


140  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH  ? 

That  these  are  found  in  man,  and  found  too  often,  is 
true  ;  but  to  present  them  as  the  portraiture  of  human- 
ity is  not  less  defective  in  real  art  than  false  in  morals. 
It  vaunts  itself  to  be  a  picture  of  the  world  pierced  to 
the  core,  and,  perhaps,  as  far  as  its  knowledge  goes,  it 
is  a  picture  of  a  certain  world  —  the  world  of  clubs  and 
coteries  and  conventionalisms,  which  are  as  much  the 
real  world  as  the  shallow  eddies,  which  whirl  straws 
and  leaves,  represent  the  deep  current  that  sweeps  be- 
yond. If  we  glance  at  such  views  of  human  nature, 
since  these  too  are  part  of  man,  let  us  not  live  in  them. 
There  are  other  and  truer  painters,  whether  it  be  in 
the  strong  outlines  of  fact  or  the  colors  of  what  is 
called  fiction  ;  and  fiction,  if  just,  is  no  more  than  ideal 
fact.  There  are  the  pages  of  history  which  present  the 
men  who  have  thirsted,  for  truth  as  for  the  water  of 
immortality,  who  have  labored  for  man's  good  with 
unpurchased  and  unpurchasable  fervor,  and  died  for 
God's  cause  with  the  triumph  of  heaven  on  their  face. 
There  are  the  true  poets  of  life,  who,  while  in  their  own 
genius  they  show  the  compass  of  humanity,  reveal  in 
their  works  the  profound  abysmal  struggles  of  the  soul 
and  its  sun-lit  peaks  of  joy.  Our  literature  from  Spen- 
ser down  to  Wordsworth  —  we  name  only  the  mighty 
dead  —  has  its  full  share  of  those  with  whom  we  may 
speak  with  profit  regarding  the  deep  heart  of  man. 
Nor  can  we  surely  forget  that  Book  of  books  which 
knows  more  than  any  of  them  what  is  in  man,  and 
which  has  imparted  to  them  all  light  and  freshness. 
If  we  take  the  Bible  into  the  range  of  literature  merely 
as  a  human  book,  and  forget  for  the  moment  that  it 
comes  from  God,  there  is  enough  in  it  to  lift  up  our 


IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ?  141 

view  of  man  to  the  verge  of  the  infinite  world.  Though 
it  made  nothing  known  to  us  of  God,  yet  it  reveals  man 
in  the  grandeur  of  his  imagination  and  force  of  his  soul, 
in  the  depth  of  his  misery  that  he  sees  the  sublimest 
moral  ideal  and  feels  himself  cut  off  from  it,  that  he 
has  the  loftiest  aspirations  after  the  infinite,  and  a 
never-ending  pain  because  he  cannot  reach  them.  If 
a  man  will  only  deal  more  with  these  views  of  human 
nature  given  by  the  masters  of  human  thought,  he  will 
not  be  so  easily  carried  away  by  the  pretensions  of  those 
who  dissect  it  to  find  only  superficiality  ;  and  unless 
he  has  some  previous  theory  which  perverts  him,  or 
some  unhappy  temperament  which  warps  his  judg- 
ment, he  will  surely  be  led  to  infer  that  the  being 
whose  wants  and  wishes,  whose  inarticulate  longings 
and  conscious  aims,  are  always  rising,  in  some  way, 
above  the  seen  and  limited,  was  made  for  a  higher 
sphere,  and  had  an  original  breath  of  the  Divine  within 
him. 

Another  counsel  which  may  be  connected  with  this 
is,  that  in  judging  of  humanity  we  must  beivare  of  taking 
a  part  for  the  ivhole.  It  should  be  remembered  that 
the  unselfish  theory  is  proved  if  we  can  show  that 
there  is  any  portion  of  human  nature  possessed  of  dis- 
interested love,  for  the  capacity  is  thereby  proved  in 
all.  But  the  selfish  theory  can  be  maintained  only  by 
proving  that  all  are  selfish  without  exception.  The 
most  common  way  of  doing  this  is  to  take  a  few  as 
specimens,  and  assert  that  these  represent  the  whole. 
We  must  consider,  then,  that  it  is  quite  possible  for 
some  to  deceive  and  others  to  remain  true,  and  that 
the  discovery  of  occasional  hypocrites  does  not  make 


142  IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH? 

all  religion  a  pretence.  If  there  were  no  reality,  there 
could  he  no  counterfeit.  When  hypocrites  do  startle 
us  where  we  little  expected  them,  our  hearts  must 
learn  to  fall  hack  on  the  sincere  who  have  fully  ap- 
proved themselves,  the  guileless  and  the  good  on  whose 
foreheads  the  God  of  Truth  has  written  his  name  in 
life  and  death  —  the  beloved  on  earth  and  the  blessed 
in  heaven.  Moreover,  even  where  all  seems  frivolous, 
if  we  could  only  see  the  whole,  we  might  discover  that 
there  was  often  more  than  met  the  eye,  and  that  those 
who  profess  to  be  depicting  human  nature  in  the  con- 
ventional world  merely  show  us  the  surface  and  the 
smaller  part.  Beneath  the  inane  features  of  fashion, 
and  the  petty  hopes  and  fears  and  struggles  of  the 
hour,  there  are  frequently  deep  questionings  of  the  soul 
which  rise  for  a  moment,  suppressed  groans  of  the 
spirit  at  the  felt  emptiness  around  it,  handwritings 
shooting  out  of  the  dark  to  make  the  heart  fail  in  the 
midst  of  feasts  ;  and  he  who  has  not  gone  down  to  this, 
who  has  not  ascertained  that  in  every  spirit  below  the 
hall  where  Herod  sits  in  seeming  ease  and  pleasure, 
there  is  in  the  dungeon  a  John  whose  thought  rises  up 
to  tell  of  a  time  when  it  was  better  with  the  soul,  and 
to  pour  bitter  into  every  sweet  at  the  recollection, — 
the  man  who  has  not  realized  this  may  profess  to  know 
and  paint  the  world,  but  he  has  touched  only  the  edge 
and  surface  —  he  knows  not  man's  deepest  misery,  and 
cannot  measure  his  real  greatness.  Let  us,  then,  when 
we  hear  or  read  these  cynical  estimates  of  humanity, 
commune  with  our  own  souls,  and  ask  if  this  is  all 
that  is  in  man  ?  and  let  us  believe  that  there  is  in  every 
one  of  our  kind,  while  earth  holds  him,  a  heart  which 


IS   MAN    ENTIRELY   SELFISH?  143 

has  its  own  bitterness,  and  which  in  some  way,  however 
faint,  responds  to  the  true  tone  when  it  is  struck.  It 
may  be  a  passing  thrill,  but  it  is  there  to  prove  that 
man  is  not  all  of  clay. 

The  last  means  we  shall  mention  for  removing  the 
view  that  man  is  incapable  of  rising  above  self  is,  to 
apprehend  the  Divine  cure  for  human  nature.  We  men- 
tion it  last,  not  because  this  is  the  order  in  which  it 
should  be  taken,  but  because  it  fitly  concludes  all  other 
means  as  the  most  important,  so  indispensable  that 
every  other,  without  it,  can  be  but  a  temporary  pallia- 
tive. Human  nature,  we  have  said,  is  deeply,  fatally 
diseased,  but  not  yet  cut  off  from  all  connection  with 
God,  nor  deprived  of  all  traces  of  its  original  dignity. 
He  bestowed  on  it  this  among  the  first,  that  it  can  give 
love  without  the  thought  of  self.  Now  the  cure  which 
God  has  provided,  while  it  reveals  the  depth  of  man's 
ruin,  has  in  it  also  a  token  of  the  greatness  of  man's 
nature.  It  is  Gocl  giving  himself  for  man's  deliver- 
ance, a  free,  unbought  love,  which  devotes  itself  to 
suffering  and  death,  that  it  may  awaken  a  response  in 
the  sinful  heart,  and  recall  the  sinner  to  the  Father's 
arms,  when  he  knows  that  all  has  been  atoned  for, 
and  that  the  past  of  guilt  is  ready  to  be  forgiven  and 
forgotten  forever.  It  reveals  to  us  the  nature  of  God, 
but  does  it  not  also  reveal  to  us  something  of  the  nature 
of  man  ?  It  does,  for  man's  nature  must  be  capable 
of  appreciating  free,  unselfish  love,  if  it  is  to  return  it ; 
and,  though  the  Holy  Spirit  is  needed  to  carry  home 
that  appreciation,  the  Spirit  works  not  against  the  law 
of  man's  original  nature,  but  in  conformity  with  it. 
The  gospel,  then,  of  free,  unbought  love  is  adapted  to 


144  IS   MAN   ENTIRELY    SELFISH? 

the  constitution  of  man,  fitted  to  win  his  admiration 
and  attract  his  spontaneous  gratitude. 

This,  too,  is  to  be  marked,  that  the  free,  unbought 
love,  so  sublime  in  self-devotion,  so  magnanimous  in 
overflowing  gifts,  enters  the  world  through  a  human 
channel.  It  is  in  the  humanity  of  Christ  that  the  great 
God  opens  up  this  fountain  of  grace,  —  a  humanity 
sinless  and  spotless,  indeed,  but  still  a  humanity  that 
is  real,  and  all  our  own.  This  is,  certainly,  God's  most 
royal  seal  set  upon  human  nature,  that  He  found  it  not 
unfit  to  be  taken  into  the  most  intimate  union  with 
Himself,  and  that  He  chose  to  pour  the  infinite  love  of 
Divinity  upon  a  dying  world  through  the  heart  of  man. 
The  question,  Is  man  capable  of  unselfish  love  ?  can 
now  be  answered  by  this  other,  Was  there  unselfish 
love  in  Christ  ?  for  in  all  tilings,  sin  excepted,  He  was- 
made  like  unto  his  brethren,  and  in  all  things  they  can 
be  made  like  Him.  He  who  has  studied  the  person  of 
Christ,  and  laid  his  hand,  however  feebly,  on  the  throb- 
bings  of  that  heart,  will  not  be  in  danger  of  the  view 
that  self-love,  utter  and  eternal,  is  part  of  the  nature 
of  man. 

We  are  well  aware  that,  with  those  who  have 
adopted  thoroughly  this  view  of  human  nature,  the 
argument  from  a  Divine  cure,  such  as  the  gospel 
reveals,  will  have  little  weight.  But  let  us  say  that, 
for  this  part  of  it,  we  do  not  even  care  though  the 
divinity  of  the  gospel  be  denied,  and  the  incarnation 
of  God  in  Christ  be  declared  a  fiction,  and  the  Per- 
son of  the  man  of  infinite  love  and  infinite  sorrow, 
be  blotted  out  of  the  book  of  human  life.  The  world 
might  indeed  wrap  itself  in  a  blacker  pall  than  that 


IS  MAN   ENTIRELY   SELFISH?  145 

which  ushered  in  his  death,  and  the  earth  feel  stranger 
pangs,  and  poor  humanity,  "  beholding  the  things  that 
were  done,  might  smite  its  breast  and  return."  But 
still,  whence  came  this  glorious  vision  of  the  God-man, 
and  of  free,  atoning  love  unto  the  death,  this  vision 
which  has  ravished  men's  hearts  in  every  age,  and 
bowed  down  their  souls  in  ecstasies  of  wonder  and 
awe  ?  How  came  it  to  establish  its  place  in  man's 
spirit,  and  to  set  up  its  throne  in  man's  world  ?  Christ 
himself  may  be  denied,  but  the  grand  thought,  the 
god-like  vision  of  a  Christ,  this  still  remains,  and  a 
thought,  whatever  men  may  say,  is  a  distinct  reality. 
If  it  came  not  from  God,  it  must  have  had  its  origin  in 
the  heart  of  humanity,  and  this  heart  must  be  capable 
of  creating  an  ideal  of  infinite  love  and  sympathy 
which  our  deepest  nature  pronounces  to  be  worthy  of 
God.  It  would  still  be  a  testimony  to  the  unselfish 
nature  of  man  that  it  could  form  such  an  ideal,  and 
struggle  on  through  many  generations  to  realize  it. 
That  a  being  with  such  a  nature  should  be  left  uncared 
for  by  God,  or,  even  if  there  were  no  God,  that  he 
should  be  cast  up  by  the  constitution  of  the  universe 
to  perish  and  pass  away  forever,  witli  infinite  moral 
yearnings  unappeased,  and  infinite  spiritual  hopes  un- 
realized, would  make  that  universe  a  falsehood  and  a 
mockery  in  its  highest  promise  —  "  its  root  rottenness, 
and  its  blossom  as  the  dust."  And,  therefore,  from  the 
greatness  of  man's  nature,  in  the  conception  of  a 
Christ,  we  can  reason  back  to  the  reality  of  Christ's 
person  and  work,  and  feel  assured  that  there  must  be 
a  God  of  love,  and  such  an  interposition  of  mercy  as 
the  gospel  reveals. 

10 


146  IS    MAN    ENTIRELY    SELFISH  ? 

And  now,  to  draw  closer  to  this  Son  of  God  ever- 
more, and  to  feel  the  tide  of  life  that  comes  from  Him, 
pouring  with  fuller  flood  around  and  through  us,  to 
have  Him  in  our  heart  and  eye,  and  to  follow  in  his 
steps  of  free,  unselfish  love  to  God  and  man,  to  be  true 
and  transparent  as  He  was,  saying  the  thing  that  is, 
and  doing  the  thing  that  should  be,  to  struggle  towards 
this  mark  where  we  do  not  reach  it,  and  send  after  it, 
from  every  fall,  more  earnest  aim  and  effort :  this,  with 
the  help  of  God,  will  deliver  us  from  the  bitter  scoff 
that  all  the  world  is  hollow,  and  man,  at  his  best,  a 
vain  and  frivolous  tiling.  The  grovelling  and  the 
false  will  sink  away  beneath  our  feet,  and  we  shall  rise 
to  that  hold  of  God  which  gives  his  own  unassailable 
peace  within,  and  to  that  calm,  though  it  may  be  sad, 
look  on  a  fallen  world  and  on  poor  tossing  humanity, 
as  still  in  his  hand,  and  as  destined  to  work  out  his 
purposes  of  free  and  everlasting  grace. 


p^kf®s 


rN 


kJI 


•9 


-v:^  ^*0T 


i- 


IX. 


far  from  tfa 


|m 


om  01 


od. 


"And  -when  Jesus  satu  that  he  answered  discreetly,  He  said 
unto  him,  Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God."  —  Mark 
xii.34. 


,  y  iC  F  these  had  not  been  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ, 
W/S  there  would  probably  have  been  some  Chris- 
^fe$  tians  found  strongly  objecting  to  them.  They 
would  have  said,  "  No  one  is  nearer  to  the  kingdom 
of  God  than  another,  for  all  men  are  alike  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins.  How  can  there  be  degrees  of 
nearness  when  every  one  is  at  an  infinite  distance  ?  " 
There  is  a  side  of  truth  in  this.  The  difference  be- 
tween Christian  and  not-Christian  is  one  not  of  degree 
but  of  kind.  "  Once  ye  were  darkness,  but  now  are 
ye  light  in  the  Lord."  And  yet  there  are  different  de- 
grees of  approximation  to  the  light.  Our  world  is 
closer  to  the  edge  of  dawn  in  one  part  of  its  course 
than  another.  The  blind  men  who,  whether  through 
God's  providence  or  their  own  choice,  took  their  seat 
by  the  wayside  at  Jericho,  were  nearer  receiving  their 


148  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

sight  than  they  had  ever  been  in  their  lives  before,  and 
nearer  still  when  their  ear  was  caught  by  the  tread  of 
the  multitude  and  they  began  to  cry  on  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth as  he  passed  by.  And  there  are  circumstances 
and  associations  in  life  that  still  bring  some  men 
closer  to  the  gospel  than  others.  There  are  disposi- 
tions of  mind  and  attitudes  in  certain  persons  toward 
it  which  make  us  very  anxious  that  they  should  take 
but  one  decided  step,  which  cause  us  to  wonder  why, 
when  they  are  so  near,  they  go  no  further.  They 
speak  so  discreetly  about  religious  things,  and  have  so 
amiable  and  reverent  a  spirit,  that  we  feel  as  if  Christ 
would  still  single  them  out,  as  He  did  this  scribe,  and 
say  tenderly,  regretfully,  may  we  not  add  hopefully  ?  — 
"  Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God."  We 
have  to  consider  here  some  of  those  things  which 
bring  a  man  near  the  kingdom,  and  next  what  is 
needed  to  make  him  decidedly  within  it. 

I.  Some  of  those  things  which  bring  a  man 
near  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  would  lead  us  away 
from  the  subject  of  discourse  if  we  were  to  attempt 
any  description  of  what  is  meant  by  this  kingdom. 
Enough  for  our  present  purpose  will  come  out  in  the 
course  of  illustration.  It  would  also  lead  us  into  too 
wide  a  field  if  we  took  all  the  things  that  bring  a  man 
near  it.  We  shall  keep  within  limits  by  using  the 
present  incident  as  our  guide. 

It  may  be  said  that  those  are  not  far  from  it  whose 
life  brings  them  into  connection  with  some  of  its  members 
and  privileges.  The  scribe  here  addressed  had  looked 
on  the  person  of  Christ,  listened  to  his  teaching,  and 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  149 

was  in  all  likelihood  acquainted  with  some  of  his  dis- 
ciples. He  was  one  of  those  who  will  be  able  to  say 
at  last,  "  Thou  hast  taught  in  our  streets."  There 
was  no  reason  apparent  why  he  should  not  enter  the 
gate  of  the  kingdom  as  well  as  others.  It  was  as  near 
to  him,  he  was  as  welcome,  and  men  in  no  way  differ- 
ent from  himself  were  touching  him  and  pressing  on 
him  as  they  passed  by  into  the  door.  There  is  not  one 
of  us  of  whom  similar  things  may  not  be  said.  We 
have  had  the  fullest  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted 
with  all  the  truth  of  the  gospel  of  God,  with  the  life 
and  death  of  the  Saviour  of  men,  and  with  their  bear- 
ing on  our  own  sin  and  deatli  and  eternal  life.  There 
it  meets  us  whenever  we  open  the  Bible,  and  here  it  is 
echoed  and  re-echoed  in  the  preaching  of  the  Word. 
It  may  be  ^-aid  of  every  one  of  us  that  we  have  known 
numbers  who  have  given  the  strongest  evidence  that 
they  were  the  true  disciples  of  Christ,  in  a  holy  and 
humble  walk,  in  a  happy  and  Christian  death.  Perhaps 
some  of  these  may  have  been  among  our  nearest  and 
dearest  friends.  Does  not  this  bring  us  near  to  the 
kingdom  of  God  both  on  earth  and  in  heaven?  It 
may  be  we  have  been  cognizant  of  the  very  change 
which  gave  the  new  and  higher  direction  to  their  life. 
We  have  witnessed  the  deepening  earnestness  of  their 
character,  and  seen  it  growing  up  into  a  purpose  and 
consistency  unknown  before.  Strange  thoughts  have 
come  over  us  and  a  thrill  has  gone  through  our  heart 
as  we  felt  the  difference,  as  if  the  very  breeze  of  the 
Spirit's  influence  were  .  stirring  and  soliciting  us  in 
passing  by.  It  is  a  very  solemn  thing  for  a  man  to  be 
placed  in  these  circumstances,  to  be  so  close  on  the 


150  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

verge  of  the  kingdom  of  God  as  to  feel  the  breath  of 
its  power  moving  round  him.  Others  beside  him, 
touching  him  by  kindred  and  blood,  are  pressing  past 
him,  across  the  boundary  line  which  is  the  beginning 
of  a  new  and  Divine  domain,  and  he  remains  where  he 
was.  What  prevents  the  step  in  him  ?  Nothing  that 
we  can  see  —  certainly  nothing  in  God's  willingness  to 
receive  or  Christ's  full  invitation  to- him  to  come.  The 
word  is  very  nigh  him,  and  he  himself  must  feel  that 
he  is  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Leaving  outward  circumstances,  we  may  come  to 
natural  dispositions,  and  here  too  we  shall  see  that 
there  are  some  things  which  bring  a  man  nearer  the 
reception  of  the  gospel  than  others.  If  there  seems  to 
be  inequality  for  the  present  in  this,  God  will  give  it 
full  weight  in  the  day  of  judgment.  Meanwhile,  we 
have  right  to  use  it  as  a  ground  of  appeal  to  culti- 
vate the  favorable  state  of  mind  and  to  press  it  to  a 
decision. 

A  man  is  not  far  from  the  kino-dom  of  God  when  he 
shows  a  spirit  of  reverence  and  candor  towards  Christ. 
The  fair  and  respectful  bearing  of  this  scribe  is  very 
marked.  He  is  impressed  by  our  Lord's  character  and 
by  the  importance  of  the  truth  laid  down  by  Him,  and 
there  is  an  entire  absence  of  the  frivolity  and  captious- 
ness  which  belonged  to  so  many  of  his  class.  Few 
things  short  of  positive  immorality  make  a  man  more 
incapable  of  appreciating  spiritual  truth  than  the  con-, 
firmed  habit  of  treating  every  thing  lightly,  and  of  look- 
ing at  it  only  on  its  amusing  side.  It  is  not  well  to 
indulge  this  overmuch  on  any  subject,  and  we  should 
be  very  careful  how  we  apply  it  to  what  concerns  God 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  151 

and  the  soul.  It  is  an  aptitude  which  is  easily  learned, 
for  to  scoff  is  in  the  power  of  any  understanding  how- 
ever weak.  When  it  is  learned  it  makes  the  under- 
standing weaker,  for  it  destroys  the  ability  to  deal 
with  the  most  momentous  subjects  in  a  truthful  way. 
When  there  is  a  want  of  reverence  there  cannot  well 
be  candor.  The  spirit  of  mockery  naturally  turns  not 
to  the  strong  points  of  a  subject,  but  to  its  weak  ones, 
and  is  ready  to  exaggerate  or  to  invent  them.  There 
is  always  therefore  a  hopeful  token  in  a  character  when 
we  find  that,  whatever  light  playfulness  may  flicker 
over  the  surface,  there  is  a  solid  basis  beneath,  where 
some  things  in  life  are  felt  to  be  no  matter  of  jest. 
Among  these  surely  are  those  which  deal  with  God  and 
the  eternal  life.  It  may  be  that  even  the  men  who 
pass  them  by  most  lightly,  to  make  a  laugh  or  to  es- 
cape one,  have  their  earnest  moments  about  them,  but 
certainly  he  is  the  manlier  who  can  stand  out  against 
this  poorest  of  all  hypocrisies,  and  who  is  not  ashamed 
to  show  that  there  are  some  matters  too  sacred  to  be 
sported  with.  That  man  also,  if  not  already  Christian, 
is  nearer  to  Christianity,  and  the  presence  of  this  rev- 
erent spirit  is  reason  for  hoping  that  he  may  reach  it. 

Another  feature  which  brings  a  man  closer  to  the 
gospel  is  hi7idline8s  and  amiability  of  nature.  We  can- 
not think  of  the  scribe  here  without  being  reminded 
of  that  young  man  spoken  of  in  a  preceding  chapter 
of  this  Gospel  (x.  17),  who  was  so  full  of  natural 
beauty  of  disposition  that  it  is  said,  "  Jesus,  beholding 
him,  loved  him."  We  have  all  of  us  met  with  such, 
with  persons  who  had  a  perfection  of  human  grace  and 
attractiveness    about   them,   like    the    fragrance  of  a 


152  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

flower  that  comes  without  consciousness  or  effort.  It 
has  frequently  a  more  rounded  fulness  and  ease  than 
is  to  be  found  in  the  higher  Christian  life,  where  the 
struggle  after  the  nobler  ideal  and  the  pain  of  repeated 
failure  leave  their  scars  and  shadows.  What  are  we 
to  say  of  such  kindliness  and  grace  ?  Are  we  to  frown 
on  them  as  evil,  or  turn  from  them  with  cold  indiffer- 
ence ?  We  cannot  think  so.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
who  had  an  eye  for  all  that  is  fair  in  God's  creation, 
did  not  cast  a  chilling  look  on  any  thing  that  is  beau- 
tiful in  human  nature.  He  acknowledged  it  as  good  so 
far  as  it  went,  and  sought  to  gain  it  for  the  divine  and 
eternal.  It  would  be  strange  if  that  gospel  which 
delights  in  those  things  that  are  pure  and  lovely  and 
of  good  report,  which  has  Him  for  its  Head  who  had 
all  meekness  and  gentleness,  should  feel  itself  less 
likely  to  be  welcomed  by  what  is  naturally  amiable. 
If  hardness  and  moroseness  are  found  in  connection 
with  the  Christian  name,  they  have  no  true  connection 
with  the  Christian  spirit,  and  we  do  feel  that  all  the 
kindly  and  generous  impulses  of  the  heart  move  in 
the  same  direction  with  some  of  the  finest  graces  of  the 
kingdom  of  God.  They  are  wild  flowers  of  nature 
that  with  the  enclosure  of  Christ's  garden  and  the 
hand  of  Divine  culture  would  put  on  a  rare  beauty. 
The  sight  of  them  makes  us  long  to  see  them  in  the 
only  safe  soil,  and  they  have  an  affinity  for  it  which 
brings  them  near. 

Another  favorable  feature  in  a  man  is  when  lie  is 
desirous  of  conforming  to  G-ooVs  laic  as  far  as  lie  hioivs 
it.  This  too  seems  to  have  existed  in  the  character  of 
the  scribe,  and  he  resembled  in  this  also  the  young 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  153 

ruler  who  had  striven  to  observe  the  commandments 
of  God  from  his  youth  up.  To  suppose  as  some  do 
that  they  were  false  pretenders  is  to  rob  these  cases  of 
their  deep  spiritual  import,  and  to  make  our  Lord 
blinded  by  their  hypocrisy.  They  were  no  doubt  sin- 
cere in  their  profession,  and  this  endeavor  to  lead  a 
pure  and  moral  life  up  to  one's  light  is  not  to  be  scorn- 
fully denounced  as  is  sometimes  done.  The  gospel  is 
bright  enough  without  pouring  equal  blackness  on  all 
that  lies  outside  it.  It  is  indeed  a  blessed  truth  that 
the  gospel  comes  to  the  chief  of  sinners,  to  the  most 
profligate  and  debased,  with  the  offer  of  free  pardon 
and  return  to  purity,  and  it  is  true  also  that  there  is  a 
proud  formal  pharisaism  which  puts  a  man  further 
from  the  kingdom  than  are  the  openly  wicked.  It  was 
this  hard  self-righteousness  which  Christ  so  strongly 
condemned.  But  this  also  is  truth,  that  if  a  man  is 
going  on  in  known  sin  he  is  searing  his  conscience, 
hardening  his  heart,  and  building  up  obstacles  against 
his  return  to  God.  Be  very  sure  of  this,  that  all  the 
way  has  to  be  travelled  back,  and  that  downward 
slopes  of  iniquity  are  hard  to  climb  again.  If  con- 
science be  at  work  in  any  man,  if  it  is  keeping  him  from 
doing  what  he  believes  to  be  sin,  and  leading  him  to 
aim  at  the  true  and  right,  he  is  to  be  commended. 
And  if  there  be  any  measure  of  humility  and  charity 
with  it,  that  man  is  certainly  nearer  the  kingdom  of 
God  than  he  who  is  going  on  in  trespasses.  The  gen- 
eral character  of  our  Lord's  own  disciples  was  not  that 
of  men  who  had  been  wallowing  in  the  depths  of  wick- 
edness, and  it  is  traducing  the  free  grace  of  the  gospel 
to  speak  as  if  vice  were  the  most  fitting  qualification 


154  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

for  it.  Wherever  conscience  is  awake  and  earnestly 
endeavoring  to  do  and  be  what  is  right  up  to  its  knowl- 
edge, it  is  coming  nearer  to  God's  kingdom,  for  that 
kingdom,  like  charity,  rejoices  not  in  iniquity,  but  in 
the  truth. 

The  last  hopeful  feature  we  mention  is  an  interest  in 
the  spiritual  side  of  things.  This  scribe  was  a  man  who 
had  felt  the  importance  of  the  great  questions  that  con- 
cern God  and  the  human  soul.  He  had  listened  with 
pleasure  to  our  Lord's  reasoning  regarding  immor- 
tality, and  this  reasoning  was  founded  on  a  deep 
spiritual  basis.  He  put  questions  on  his  own  account, 
and  added  his  personal  experience  to  the  answers  in 
such  a  way  as  shows  him  to  have  been  a  thoughtful 
man  who  looked  beyond  religion  as  a  thing  of  ceremo- 
nial, and  who  saw  that  it  had  to  do  with  the  heart  and 
the  inmost  life.  He  had  conceived  an  admiration  for 
the  person  of  Christ,  and  publicly  owns  it  in  a  manner 
which  impresses  us  with  a  sense  of  his  transparency 
and  courage.  When  we  meet  with  such  a  man,  though 
not  avowedly  Christian,  there  is  something  very  hope- 
ful in  him.  We  meet  with  so  much  indifference  and 
materialism  that  it  is  refreshing  to  light  upon  one  who 
rises  above  such  a  chilling  element,  and  who  gives 
evidence  that  he  believes  there  is  a  God,  and  a  soul, 
and  a  spiritual  law  laid  down  for  man's  guidance  —  to 
see  him  not  only  listening  but  putting  intelligent 
questions,  and  avowing  with  honest  conviction  how  far 
lie  goes,  though  it  may  not  be  so  far  as  we  desire. 
The  Saviour  recognized  it  with  satisfaction,  and  it  is 
our  part  to  do  the  same.  We  may  not  find  all  these 
features  in  the  same  person,  but  where  we  find  even 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  155 

one  we  should  be  thankful  for  and  should  encourage 
it.  The  gospel  of  Christ  attaches  itself  to  all  that  is 
-best  in  human  feeling  and  conscience,  and  makes  its 
appeal  to  it.  What  is  not  against  us  here  is  with  us, 
and  if  we  meet  it  in  a  kindly,  candid  spirit,  we  may 
win  it  to  the  kingdom  of  Him  whose  heart  yearns  over 
the  most  distant  wanderers,  but  who  cherishes  a  pecu- 
liar interest  in  those  whose  souls  are  feeling  their  way, 
however  faintly,  to  the  eternally  true  and  good. 

II.  We  come  now  to  consider  what  is  needed  to 

MAKE    A    MAN    DECIDEDLY    BELONG    TO    THE    KINGDOM    OF 

God.  Our  Lord's  words  imply  that,  with  all  that  is 
favorable  in  this  man,  there  is  still  something  wanting. 
Christ  had  that  divine  insight  which  let  Him  see  into 
the  hearts  of  men,  as  well  as  into  the  heart  of  things, 
and  which  enabled  Him  to  range  them  in  their  true 
place.  We  have  neither  the  power  nor  the  right 
thus  to  judge  the  inward  nature  of  men.  So  far  we 
may  go  in  laying  down  the  outward  characteristics  of 
those  who  are  consistent  members  of  his  kingdom,  but 
the  more  we  refrain,  from  unfavorable  decisions  on  the 
eternal  destiny  of  individuals  the  better.  It  is  always 
right  for  us,  however,  to  look  as  far  as  we  can  into  the 
heart  of  things,  and  to  use  the  principles  we  learn 
there  for  ascertaining  our  own  true  position,  whether 
in  God's  kingdom  or  not. 

We  have  employed  the  case  of  the  scribe  to  illustrate 
the  features  that  bring  a  man  near  the  kingdom,  and 
now  we  may  seek  to  discover  from  him  what  is  still 
lacking. 

This  strikes  us,  first  of  all,  that  in  what  he  says 


156  NOT    FAR   FROM   THE 

there  is  no  apparent  perception  of  the  evil  of  sin,  and 
no  application  for  pardon  and  help.  He  perceives  the 
claim  of  God's  law,  and  admits  it  to  be  spiritual ;  but, 
so  far  as  we  can  see,  there  is  no  conviction  of  that 
hopeless  violation  of  it  which  can  be  met  only  by 
a  Divine  deliverer  like  Christ. 

Then  there  is  this,  next,  that,  while  he  admires 
Christ's  teaching,  lie  speaks  as  one  might  to  another 
on  his  own  level :  "  Well,  Master,  thou  hast  said  the 
truth ; "  but  there  is  no  appearance  of  his  soul 
bowing  before  Him  as  a  teacher  sent  from  God,  still 
less  of  his  being  ready  to  follow  Him  as  his  spiritual 
leader,  and  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  Him,  to  walk  in  his 
steps  and  do  his  will. 

Now  these  two  defects  point  out  very  clearly  the 
two  things  that  make  a  man  a  member  of  the  kingdom 
of  God.  The  first  requisite,  and  one  insisted  on  by 
Christ  himself,  is  the  new  Hirth  (John  iii.  3)  :  "  Except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of 
God."  When  we  look  at  this  condition  of  entrance, 
as  described  in  this  chapter  of  John's  Gospel,  we 
perceive  that  its  essence  consists  in  a  man  being  made 
to  feel  that  the  old  natural  life,  however  he  may  strug- 
gle in  it,  can  never  set  him  right  with  God.  Whether 
he  has  been  pursuing  a  course  of  sin  and  thoughtless 
folly,  or  has  been  striving  to  achieve,  in  all  sincerity, 
a  pure  moral  character,  there  comes  a  wakening  up  of 
conscience  which  shows  him  the  gulf  between  what  he 
should  be  and  what  he  really  is  —  a  deep,  hopeless 
gulf  to  all  natural  effort.  When,  under  this  convic- 
tion, he  casts  himself  on  the  divine  mercy  as  presented 
in  Christ,  the  lifting  up  of  the  Son  of  Man   by  the 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  157 

Father,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not 
perish,  the  new  birth  begins,  and  he  enters  the  king- 
dom of  God.  The  change  may  be  sudden  or  it  may  be 
slow,  so  slow  as  to  be  imperceptible  at  the  time  to  him- 
self or  others  ;  but  such  a  change  there  must  be,  if  any 
one  is  to  pass  this  line.  The  great  centre  of  determi- 
nation is,  the  view  a  man  takes  of  sin.  When  he  is 
brought  to  see  its  evil  in  the  sight  of  God,  to  feel  his 
helpless  position  under  it,  and  to  put  himself  into  the 
hand  of  God  for  cure,  as  God  has  made  his  own  way 
of  cure  known,  he  has  become  a  Christian.  It  is  the 
passing  from  the  natural  and  earthly  life  over  into 
the  supernatural  and  heavenly.  This  supernatural 
life  is  as  truly  in  the  world  as  when  Christ  was  in  it, 
although  the  outward  miraculous  signs  which  sur- 
rounded his  personal  presence  are  gone.  Whenever  a 
soul  is  brought  into  this  new  sense  and  view  of  things, 
it  is  by  the  direct  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Strong 
as  the  tempest,  or  soft  as  the  breeze,  shattering  proud 
thoughts  at  a  blow,  or  gently  opening  a  new  world,  as 
in  the  breath  of  spring,  day  by  clay,  it  is  the  move- 
ment of  that  Spirit  which  comes  and  goes  as  it  lists, 
and  makes  known  its  presence  only  in  its  work. 

The  other  requisite  is  the  new  life.  It  is  the  natural 
and  necessary  outflow  of  the  new  birth.  Wherever 
the  birth  is,  the  life  will,  more  or  less,  follow,  and 
wherever  the  new  life  shows  itself  the  new  birth  must, 
in  some  way,  have  preceded  it.  If  there  be  the  view 
of  sin  we  have  spoken  of,  there  comes  with  it  what  is 
termed  a  new  nature  —  a  higher  principle  of  thought 
and  feeling  and  action  in  the  soul.  Repentance  is  the 
look  which  such   a  man   casts  backward ;    contrition 


158  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

is  the  turning  of  his  eye  within,  and  the  setting  of  his 
life  upon  a  new  basis,  or  what  is  termed  sanctification,  is 
his  aim  as  he  looks  forward.  Humility  and  self-dis- 
trust, and  dependence  on  God,  and  endeavor  after  an 
obedience  not  of  the  letter  but  of  the  spirit,  and  not 
of  fear  but  gratitude,  will  be  some  of  the  features  which 
mark  this  life. 

In  seeking  to  ascertain  whether  we  belong  to  God's 
kingdom,  we  may  observe  that  it  is  not  so  much  the 
time  and  manner  of  the  new  birth  that  are  a  criterion 
as  the  evidences  of  the  new  life.  In  some  a  change  takes 
place  so  suddenly  and  remarkably  that  they  themselves 
and  others  cannot  but  be  aware  of  the  precise  period. 
There  is  a  quiet,  sober-minded  Christianity  which  is 
apt  to  shrink  from  such  cases  as  if  they  had  something 
unreal  and  unreliable  in  them,  and  which  imagines 
that,  however  suitable  they  may  have  been  at  certain 
epochs  of  gospel  history,  they  are  out  of  place  in  our 
age.  It  would  treat  such  converts  very  much  as  the 
disciples  seem  for  a  while  to  have  treated  Paul,  with  a 
certain  suspicion  of  his  sincerity,  and  almost  an  incre- 
dulity as  to  the  power  of  God's  grace.  But  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  Church  of  Christ  have 
been  in  all  times  the  subjects  of  these  decided  transfor- 
mations —  Paul  and  Augustine  and  Luther  and  Bun- 
yan,  not  to  come  nearer  our  own  days.  We  should 
not  only  acknowledge  such  cases,  but  rejoice  to  see 
them,  as  proving  the  presence  of  the  old  Pentecostal 
power,  and,  if  there  be  a  tendency  in  such  ardent  na- 
tures to  extremes,  it  is  the  part  of  the  longer  established 
Christians  to  take  them  by  the  hand  and  seek  to  guide 
them.     Certainly  revivals   of  spiritual  life  in  sudden 


KINGDOM   OF   GOD.  150 

freshness  and  extraordinary  power  are  as  much  needed 
as  ever  they  were,  and  if  more  unfrequcnt  than  for- 
merly it  is  probably  because  we  do  not  enough  expect 
tli  em. 

On  the  other  hand,  some  of  those  who  have  under- 
gone this  change  suddenly  are  guilty  of  similar  intol- 
erance, and  doubt  the  Christianity  of  all  who  have  not 
had  the  same  experience  as  themselves.  They  require 
the  time  and  place  of  conversion,  and  a  certain  order 
of  spiritual  conviction,  with  an  unhesitating  assurance 
of  faith,  before  they  will  admit  a  man's  title  to  be  a 
Christian.  This  is  to  forget,  again,  that  many  of  those 
who  have  been  the  most  eminent  Christians  have  grown 
up  slowly  into  the  light  and  life  of  the  gospel,  and  have 
confessed  themselves  unable  to  point  to  the  period  and 
way  in  which  they  crossed  the  boundary  line.  This 
seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  a  number  of  the  first 
disciples  who  passed  through  the  baptism  of  John,  and 
it  will  probably  always  be  so  with  the  majority  of  those 
who  have  been  trained  under  Christian  influences,  and 
have  become  wise  unto  salvation  by  knowing  the  Scrip- 
tures from  their  youth. 

Meanwhile,  the  welfare  of  the  Church  of  Christ  may 
be  promoted  by  the  presence  of  both  elements.  The 
one  gives  ardor  and  fresh  impulse,  the  other  stability 
and  edifying  growth.  What  is  wanted  is  that  each 
should  be  willing  to  recognize  the  other  when  it  offers 
the  only  real  credential,  the  Christian  character. 
Wherever  we  find  the  fruits  we  should  admit  that  there 
is  a  tree  of  righteousness  of  God's  planting.  As  long  as 
there  are  such  diverse  dispositions  and  temperaments, 
and  such  varying  circumstances  in  life,  we  may  expect 


160  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

that  God's  truth  will  find  its  entrance  into  the  mind  by 
different  ways,  that  some  will  be  operated  on  by  one 
kind  of  evidence,  some  by  another,  some  be  taken  by 
storm,  others  yield  to  slow  influence,  and  that  even  the 
color  and  shape  of  the  Christian  life  will  vary,  while 
yet  there  is  a  common  likeness  in  all  who  possess  it. 
We  must  seek  to  have  the  broad  charity  that  will  re- 
joice in  this,  even  though  there  may  be  some  things  in 
the  form  of  it  with  which  we  cannot  personally  sympa- 
thize. The  thing  common  to  all  will  be  the  prevailing 
likeness  to  Christ.  Where  the  grand  features  of  his 
character  appear,  the  man  belongs  to  the  kingdom 
of  God  whether  he  can  point  out  the  time  and  place  of 
his  birth's  register  or  not.  Life  carries  with  it  its  own 
signet. 

Whether  the  scribe  whom  our  Lord  here  addressed 
finally  entered  the  kingdom  we  are  not  told.  We  may 
hope  that,  like  Nicodemus,  he  was  led  on  to  a  full  deci- 
sion, and  that  perhaps,  "  when  a  great  company  of  the 
priests  became  obedient  to  the  faith"  (Acts  vi.  7),  he 
was  of  the  number.  It  may  be  for  a  good  reason  that 
the  result  is  concealed,  to  fill  us  with  a  salutary  awe 
when  symptoms  are  so  favorable,  and  to  urge  us  to 
bring  them  to  an  undoubted  issue.  If  a  case  be  sought 
which  stands  over  against  that  of  the  scribe  as  an  in- 
stance of  true  decision,  it  is  found  in  Peter.  Notwith- 
standing his  sad  fall,  there  are  two  words  of  his  which 
show  that  his  mind  was  fully  made  up.  There  is  the 
feeling  of  spiritual  unworthiness  that  comes  out  when 
he  says,  "  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  0 
Lord  ;  "  and  yet  there  is  that  view  of  Christ  which  will 
not  let  him  quit  hold  of  Him,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we 


KINGDOM   OF   GOD.  161 

go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life."  The  turn- 
ing points  of  the  new  birth  and  the  new  life  are  both 
found  here,  and  we  should  not  rest  till  we  reach  them. 

The  subject  would  be  incomplete  if  we  did  not,  in  the 
close,  advert  to  some  of  the  reasons  which  make  it  so 
desirable  that  a  man  who  is  near  the  kingdom  of  God 
should  strive  to  enter  it.  If  there  are  some  so  far 
away  that  they  at  times  fall  into  a  despair  of  ever 
reaching  it,  there  are  a  greater  number  so  near  that  they 
sink  into  an  apathetic  contentment  with  being  almost 
Christians.  Those  that  are  far  off  may  come  to  be 
nigh  when  the  children  of  the  kingdom  are  cast  out. 

Let  this,  then,  be  considered  that  though  the  distance 
may  not  seem  great,  there  is  momentous  importance 
in  it.  It  is  thought  by  many  that  a  character  based 
on  mere  natural  goodness  is  enough  in  the  way  of  re- 
ligion. If  there  be  a  proper  regard  to  morality,  and  a 
kindly  bearing  to  our  fellow-men,  it  passes  well  in  this 
world  and  may  pass  in  the  next.  This,  felt  or  ex- 
pressed, is  the  opinion  of  a  great  multitude  close  to  our 
Christianity,  and  if  they  have  any  misgiving,  they  put 
it  down  with  the  reflection  that  they  are  the  multitude. 
It  is  good  for  us  to  leave  this  deceptive  atmosphere, 
and  put  ourselves  face  to  face  with  the  Word  of  God. 
If  there  be  any  truth  in  it,  it  is  clear  that  a  great  deal 
depends  on  being  a  Christian,  and  that  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian needs  something  more  than  a  decent  arrangement 
of  the  natural  life.  "  He  that  believeth  on  him  is  not 
condemned ;  but  he  that  believeth  not  is  condemned 
already,  because  he  hath  not  believed  in  the  name  of 
the  only  begotten  Son  of  God."  The  man  who  trusts 
the  mere  natural  good  life  must  not  only  set  aside  such 

11 


162  .NOT   PAR   FROM   THE 

a  plain  declaration,  but  the  whole  meaning  of  the  gos- 
pel, the  incarnation  and  death  of  the  Son  of  God,  the 
work  of  the  Spirit,  the  solemnity  of  judgment  and  the 
very  essence  of  religion  as  consisting  in  the  friendship 
and  fellowship  of  the  soul  with  God.  The  natural  life 
of  man  lies  outside  of  these  things,  and  he  who  con- 
fines himself  to  it  takes  the  consequences  of  neglecting 
them.  Apart  even  from  the  utterances  of  the  Bible, 
let  men  only  take  conference  with  their  own  conscience 
when  it  speaks  without  the  bias  of  worldly  influence. 
It  reveals  often  the  flaws  and  failures  of  the  natural 
life  in  such  a  way  that,  through  the  gaping  chasms, 
the  hollowness  beneath  is  visible,  and  the  man  shrinks 
from  himself.  Nothing  but  a  view  of  Christ  as  the 
source  of  pardon  and  of  new  life  can  enable  a  man  to 
look  such  an  awakened  conscience  calmly  in  the  face ; 
and  if  he  cannot  meet  conscience,  how  can  he  encoun- 
ter God  ?  Or,  even  laying  aside  conscience,  let  a  man 
consult  the  nature  of  his  own  soul,  and  ask  if  its  end 
can  be  found  in  a  life  that  does  not  regard  God,  and 
that  has  not  learned  to  stand  right  with  Him.  This  is 
to  leave  the  highest  part  of  the  nature  which  should 
be  the  light  and  crown  of  all  the  rest,  utterly  neglected 
and  ruined.  It  is  to  let  a  plant  cling  to  the  earth  that 
was  made  to  climb,  and  that  can  bring  forth  its  best 
flowers  and  fruits  only  when  it  ascends  ;  as  if  a  palace 
were  tenanted  in  its  dungeons  and  lower  rooms,  while 
the  higher  apartments,  which  command  the  most  glo- 
rious prospects  over  land  and  sea  and  to  the  broad  sky, 
are  left  desolate  ;  or,  as  if  a  city  had  its  streets  crowded 
with  traffic  and  filled  with  the  din  of  labor  and  busy 
life,  but  the  temples,  which  tell  of  man's  dignity  by 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  163 

pointing  him  to  God,  remain  in  untrodden  silence,  and 
become  the  homes  only  of  the  dead.  Can  a  man  who 
has  a  soul,  feel  that  it  is  well  with  him  in  such  a  state  ? 
and  yet  thus  he  stands  while  he  refuses  to  admit  God 
to  his  rightful  place. 

Another  reason  why  we  feel  anxious  that  those  near 
the  kingdom  should  enter  it,  is  the  effect  their  position 
lias  upon  others.  When  there  is  a  nature  that  has  so 
much  of  the  beautiful  and  attractive  outside  the  proper 
Christian  sphere,  it  is  ready  to  impress  those  who  do 
not  think  very  deeply  with  the  idea  that  the  gospel  is 
not  so  necessary  as  the  Bible  declares.  Inconsistent 
Christians  are  an  obstacle  on  one  side ;  and  the  fair 
natural  life  may  shine  so  much  in  contrast  that  we  do 
not  wonder  at  those  who  have  not  yet  felt  the  power 
of  a  higher  principle  being  stumbled.  In  this  mixed 
and  imperfect  world  it  is  impossible  to  exclude  all 
harsh  and  cold  things  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  but 
we  may  aim  at  having  all  naturally  beautiful  things 
included  in  it,  and  at  having  the  graft  of  heaven  in- 
serted in  the  best  of  earth.  This  is  certain,  that  when 
what  is  best  in  nature  does  enter  in,  it  will  be  the  first 
to  confess  that  its  own  was  poor  and  worthless  compared 
with  the  new  aim  which  God  sets  before  it.  Its  seem- 
ing is  made  real,  and  its  real  rises  to  a  height  unthought 
of  before.  Its  sense  of  rightness  puts  on  a  transparent 
purity,  and  its  kindliness  a  tenderness  of  sympathy, 
that  make  such  a  character  become  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  things  our  world  can  look  upon.  The  young 
man  whom  Jesus  loved,  from  whom  he  parted  with 
such  a  regret,  rises  into  the  disciple  who  lay  on  his 
Master's  bosom,  the  conception  of  whose  face  among 


164  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

the  chosen  friends  of  Christ  has  been  the  ideal  of  the 
artist  ever  since,  and  whose  mind  more  than  any  other 
received,  and  still  reflects,  the  likeness  of  Him  who  was 
fairer  than  the  children  of  men.  When,  even  in  a  far 
humbler  degree,  such  a  union  of  nature  and  grace 
occurs,  it  specially  adorns  the  doctrine  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour ;  and  to  gain  it  for  the  gospel  cause  must  be 
an  object  of  peculiar  interest. 

This,  moreover,  should  be  pondered  by  all,  that  the 
only  security  for  permanence  in  what  is  naturally 
attractive  in  human  character  consists  in  connecting 
it  with  God.  Here,  too,  the  grass  withereth,  and  the 
flower  of  it  falleth  away.  The  brightest  and  most 
beautiful  things  of  the  heart  lie  all  unshielded  if  God's 
shadow  is  not  over  them.  The  grace  of  God  can  keep 
the  nature  sweet  in  the  midst  of  all  bitterness,  and 
bring  out  its  sweetness  most  upon  a  cross,  and  under 
draughts  of  vinegar  and  gall.  But  the  conflicts  of  life, 
the  assaults  of  passion,  the  irritations  of  care  and  ill- 
success,  and  the  resentments  against  man's  injustice, 
will  corrode  and  canker  the  finest  heart  if  it  is  not 
constantly  drawing  the  corrective  from  a  Divine  source. 
Even  without  these  trials,  whatever  has  not  God  in  it  is 
smitten  with  the  inevitable  law  of  decay.  It  can  be 
nothing  more  than  the  seed  sown  in  thin  earth  over 
the  rock,  which,  because  it  has  no  root,  withers  away. 
Whatever  of  human  kindnesses  and  amiabilities  may 
be  there,  if  there  be  an  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  God 
of  our  life,  and  a  cold  indifference  to  the  Father  of 
spirits,  there  can  be  nothing  permanent,  and  the  bear- 
ing to  man  only  stands  out  in  sadder  contrast  with 
such  an  unaccountable  and  appalling  neglect. 


KINGDOM    OF   GOD.  165 

Outwardly,  then,  the  human  graces  and  virtues  may 
bring  a  man  at  times  close  to  the  boundary  of  the  king- 
dom, but  there  is  still  a  limit  between,  which  is  of  vast 
importance  in  the  inner  life,  and  which  shows  itself 
more  openly  as  time  advances.  It  is  as  if  a  man  were 
standing  on  the  shore,  close  to  where  a  ship  is  moored. 
There  is  but  a  line  between,  and  a  step  may  cross  it. 
But  the  one  is  fixed,  the  other  moves,  and  all  the 
future  of  existence  depends  on  that  step,  — new  lands, 
a  new  life,  and  God's  great  wide  world.  In  the  spirit- 
ual sphere  to  stand  still  is  to  fall  away,  to  be  left  on 
that  shore,  doomed  to  decay  and  death.  To  pass  into 
God's  kingdom  is  to  move  with  it,  not  only  up  to  the 
grandeur  of  his  universe,  but  into  the  heritage  of 
Himself. 

The  great  Italian  poet,  in  speaking  of  those  who  lived 
in  dead  indifference,  without  either  "  infamy  or  praise*," 
says  that  he  saw  in  the  other  world  the  shade  of  him 
who  "  with  ignoble  spirit  refused  the  great  offer."  It- 
has  been  a  disputed  question  who  was,  in  the  poet's 
eye  enduring  the  eternal  shame  of  declining  to  take  one 
noble  step.  Those  surely  are  in  the  right  who  find 
him  in  that  young  man  who  turned  away  sorrowful 
when  the  Lord  said,  "  Come,  follow  Me,"  for,  as  has 
been  observed,  nothing  that  ever  happened  in  the  world 
could  be  so  justly  called,  as  Dante  calls  it,  "  the  great 
refusal."  If  anything  can  fill  the  future  world  of  sin 
and  loss  with  tormenting  regret,  it  must  be  that  the 
kingdom  of  God  was  so  near,  the  call  to  it  so  free,  and 
that  the  opportunity  was  fatally  and  totally  lost.  How 
sadly  does  the  wise  man  say,  "  for  man  knoweth  not 
his  time,"  and  what  a  sorrow  was  in  the  heart  of  Christ 


166  NOT   FAR   FROM   THE 

when  He  said,  "  If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at 
least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  thy 
peace."  Not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  yet 
this  not  fa?*  may  lose  it  all ! 

The  old  question  may  be  coming  from  some,  "  But 
what  must  we  do  ?  "  and  the  old  answer  still  remains 
good,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou 
shalt  be  saved."  There  is  no  other  way,  and  never 
can  be,  of  entering  the  kingdom  but  by  coming  to  Him 
who  is  its  Head  and  Lord ;  and  our  wisdom  and  our 
safety  is  not  to  wait  for  some  more  favoring  circum- 
stances, or  for  some  great  crisis  of  the  soul,  but  to  have 
the  heart  go,  here  and  now,  to  that  Saviour  who  is  not 
far  from  every  one  of  us.  It  was  an  earthquake  shock 
which  roused  the  jailer,  but  in  that  same  city  of  Phi- 
lippi,  Lydia  had  her  heart  quietly  opened.  This  hour, 
in  the  secret  silent  purpose  of  the  soul,  the  question 
may  be  settled  and  the  boundary  line  crossed.  If  any 
one  feels  that  it  is  right  to  take  this  step,  let  him  take 
it  now,  looking  to  Christ  as  the  Healer  of  all  the  sinful 
past  and  the  Helper  of  all  the  doubtful  future.  Let 
him  put  this  look  to  Christ  into  his  first  act,  whatever 
it  may  be,  and  then  into  every  act  that  follows.  This 
is  the  Christian's  walk  of  faith,  the  life  of  God's  king- 
dom, which  becomes  through  God's  grace  ever  stronger* 
and  more  living  as  it  is  aimed  at.  The  first  step  into 
the  kingdom  is  in  no  way  different  from  every  other 
which  succeeds ;  it  is  the  doing  before  Christ  and  God 
what  was  heretofore  done  before  man.  It  will  cut  off 
the  sinful  act  and  purify  and  elevate  the  base,  but  it  will 
destroy  nothing  that  is  natural,  nothing  that  is  truly 
human.     He  who  stands  on  the  boundary  line  of  his 


KINGDOM   OF   GOD.  167 

kingdom  freely  inviting,  ready  to  accept  every  resolve 
however  feeble,  will  be  near  in  all  difficulty  to  strength- 
en with  sufficient  grace.  If  the  purpose  has  been  hum- 
bly but  sincerely  formed  in  any  heart  to  take  Christ  at 
his  word,  let  us  thank  God  for  it  —  if  there  be  delay, 
the  regret  and  the  loss  that  may  follow  will  be  all  your 
own,  for, "  be  ye  sure  of  this,  that  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  come  nigh  unto  you." 


,*-V^P«$®-fe 


IJorft  and   jjaicltmj). 


*'  The  Son  of  Man  is  as  a  man  taking-  a  far  journey,  who  left 
his  house,  and  .  .  .  gave  to  every  man  his  work,  and  co7nmandcd 
the  porter  to  voatck."  —  Mark  xiii.  34. 

^WHhE  Christian  Church  is  here  compared  to  a 
niMi    great  house  or  palace  left  for  a  time  by  its 

(jo  1  J 

W^  p  Lord  and  Master,  the  Son  of  Man.  He  left 
his  church  at  his  ascension,  and  He  will  return  again 
to  take  account  of  it  at  the  general  judgment  in  the 
end  of  the  world.  He  comes  at  the  same  time  to 
every  individual  at  his  death.  The  Son  of  Man  at  his 
departure  gave  authority  to  his  servants,  that  is,  not 
merely,  as  some  say,  to  the  office-bearers  of  his  church, 
but  to  all  his  servants,  authority  to  transact  in  his 
room,  to  maintain  due  order  in  the  house,  and  seek  its 
good.  There  is  meanwhile  no  other  above  them  in  the 
house,  no  earthly  master,  but  only  the  Word  of  Christ, 
which  under  the  teaching  of  his  Spirit  He  has  left  for 
their  guidance.  Besides  this  authority  to  maintain 
order  in  the  house,  it  is  said  "  He  gave  to  every  man 
his  work,  and  commanded  the  porter  to  watch."    This 


WORK   AND   WATCHING.  169 

is  the  most  important  portion  of  Christ's  parting 
charge,  since  the  rule  and  order  of  the  house  are 
there  only  for  the  sake  of  the  work  and  watching  in 
it.  It  is  to  these  that  wTe  shall  now  turn  attention, 
taking,  first,  the  work  of  the  servants ;  second,  the 
watch  of  the  porter ;  and  third,  the  bearing  of  each  of 
these  upon  the  other. 

I.  The  work  of  the  servants.  And  here  we  observe 
that  work  is  the  common  duty  of  all  in  Chrisfs  house. 
It  would  be  very  strange  if  it  were  not  so.  The  first 
thing  we  read  of  God  doing  for  man  when  He  made 
him  wTas  to  assign  him  work.  Before  He  gave  him  a 
right  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees  "  He  put  him  into 
the  garden  of  Eden  to  dress  it  and  to  keep  it"  (Gen. 
ii.  15).  When  man  is  translated  to  the  heavenly  Eden 
it  is  not  to  idleness  —  "  they  serve  Him  day  and  night 
in  his  temple."  The  wise  man  when  he  looked  abroad 
on  the  world  made  this  deep  reflection  —  "  all  things 
are  full  of  labor."  The  calm  stars  are  in  ceaseless  mo- 
tion, and  every  leaf  a  world,  with  its  busy  inhabitants, 
and  the  sap  coursing  through  its  veins  as  the  life-blood 
through  our  own.  He  who  made  all  worlds  has  said, 
"  My  Father  worketh  hitherto  and  I  work."  It  would 
be  strange  then  if  the  Christian  Church,  which  was  in- 
tended to  be  the  beating  heart  to  all  this  world's  activ- 
ities, were  exempted  from  a  law  so  universal.  It  was 
for  this  end  that  Christ  called  its  members  into  it  — 
"  why  stand  ye  here  all  the  day  idle?"  and  then  "  gave 
to  every  man  his  work."  Were  it  otherwise  it  would  be 
against  our  best  and  highest  nature.  Work  is  not  only 
a  duty  but  a  blessing.     Every  right  deed  is  a  step  in 


170  WORK    AND    WATCHING. 

the  upward  scale  of  being  by  which  we  are  raised  to 
that  rich  reward  —  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  That  joy  is 
itself  larger  and  nobler  employment  near  the  throne  of 
Him  who  has  risen  to  heaven,  not  for  idle  repose,  but 
grander  action.  If  any  one  is  ready  to  complain  of  the 
urgent  voices  that  summon  him  to  labor,  of  Christ's 
command,  "  son,  go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  of 
the  pressing  wants  of  the  household  that  seem  to  grow 
in  piercing  earnestness,  of  fellow-servants  who  plead 
for  aid,  and  fellow-sinners  whose  miseries  cry  for  pity, 
let  such  an  one  remember  that  this  is  the  ordinance  of 
a  wise  Master  who  set  us  the  example  of  unwearied 
labor,  finishing  one  work  to  begin  another,  —  that  it  is 
the  law  of  the  universe  of  that  God  who  faintetli  not 
neither  is  weary  in  deeds  of  kindness  to  his  creatures, 
—  and  that  it  is  in  this  way  God  and  his  Christ  lift  us 
up  to  the  blessed  dignity  of  being  their  fellow-workers. 
Instead  of  praying  that  God  would  grant  us  less  work, 
our  request  should  be  that  He  would  give  us  a  greater 
heart  and  growing  strength  to  meet  all  its  claims. 

We  observe  next  that  this  work  of  Christ's  house 
is  varied  to  different  individuals.  "  The  Son  of  Man 
gave  to  every  one,  that  is,  to  each  one,  his  work." 
In  one  respect  there  is  something  common  in  the  work 
of  all,  as  there  is  a  common  salvation.  "  This  is  the 
work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  in  Him  whom  He  hath 
sent"  —  "this  is  the  will  of  God,  even  your  sancti- 
fication."  We  have  said  this  is  common  work  for  each 
one,  and  yet  even  here  there  may  be  a  variety  in  the 
form.  There  is  a  different  color  of  beauty  in  different 
stones  that  are  all  of  them  precious.     One  man  may 


WORK    AND    WATCHING.  171 

be  burnishing  to  the  sparkle  of  the  diamond,  while 
another  is  deepening  to  the  glow  of  the  ruby.  For 
this  reason  there  are  such  different  temperaments 
in  Christian  character,  and  varying  circumstances  in 
Christian  life,  that  the  foundation  of  the  wall  of  the 
city  may  be  garnished  with  all  manner  of  precious 
stones.  Each  Christian  has  his  own  place  and  lustre 
in  that  temple,  and  therefore  there  is  no  ground  to  dis- 
parage our  neighbor  and  none  to  despair  of  ourselves, 
if  we  are  both  in  the  hand  of  Christ.  When  we  look 
from  the  individual  life  to  the  practical  work,  the 
variety  is  still  more  marked.  There  are  different 
members,  and  all  have  not  the  same  office.  Some  are 
there  to  teach  —  some  to  counsel  and  administer  — 
some  to  tend  the  young  —  some  to  visit  the  sick-bed 

—  some  to  conduct  the  temporal  affairs  of  the  Church 

—  some  to  be  liberal  givers  as  God  has  prospered  them, 
and  some,  without  any  formal  mode  of  action,  come 
under  this  description,  which  applies  to  them  all, 
"  sons  of  God,  without  rebuke,  shining  as  lights  in  the 
world,  holding  forth  the  Word  of  life."  It  is  very  beau- 
tiful to  see  how  the  God,  who  has  bound  his  world  into 
a  grand  harmony  by  its  very  diversity,  has  arranged 
for  this  same  end  in  his  Church,  by  giving  the  members 
their  different  faculties  of  work,  —  how  the  pure  light 
that  comes  from  the  sun  breaks  into  its  separate  hues 
when  it  touches  the  palace-house  of  Christ  with  its 
varied  cornices  and  turrets  till  every  color  lies  in  tran- 
quil beauty  beside  its  fellow.  If  it  is  not  so  it  should 
be  so,  and  as  the  Church  grows  it  will  be  so.  Use  and 
ornament,  the  corner-stone  and  the  copestone,  shall 
both  be  felt  to  have  their  due  place.     To  see  how  this 


172  WORK   AND   WATCHING. 

may  be  is  to  perceive  that  an  end  can  be  put  to  all 
jealousies  and  heart-burnings,  and  may  help  us  even 
now  to  take  our  position  calmly  and  unenvionsly, 
working  in  our  department,  assured  that  our  labor 
shall  be  found  to  contribute  to  the  full  proportion  of 
the  whole. 

Another  remark  is  that  each  individual  has  means 
for  ascertaining  his  own  work.  The  Son  of  Man  "gave 
to  every  man  his  work."  The  Master  of  the  house  let 
each  servant  know  what  he  was  expected  to  attend  to, 
and  it  must  be  supposed  that  Christ  will  have  some 
means  by  which  He  gives  a  man  intimation  of  what 
He  looks  for  from  him.  It  is  very  vain  to  seek  this  as 
some  have  done  in  any  personal  revelation,  or  any 
irresistible  impression  made  on  the  mind.  Christ 
guides  men  into  their  sphere  of  work  by  the  finger  of 
his  providence,  and  by  the  enlightenment  of  his  Word 
in  the  hand  of  his  Spirit.  A  man  is  to  try  to  find  his 
place  of  usefulness  in  the  Church  of  Christ  very  much 
as  he  tries  to  find  it  in  the  world  of  men,  and  in- 
deed these  two  generally  go  together.  If  it  be  some- 
times difficult  to  ascertain  this,  it  may  be  well  to 
remember  that  this  very  difficulty  is  part  of  our  train- 
ing. It  might  be  a  much  simpler  and  a'  more  satis- 
factory thing  meanwhile  to  have  our  place  directly 
pointed  out  to  us,  but  it  would  not  make  us  so  strong 
in   the  end. 

It  is  of  importance  to  have  some  rules  to  guide  us 
in  choosing  Christian  work,  and  the  first  we  mention  is 
to  consider  for  what  we  are  most  fitted.  There  is 
scarcely  any  one  who  lias  not  some  specialty,  both  as 
a  man  and  a  Christian,  which  makes  him  suited  for 


WORK   AND   WATCHING.  173 

some  particular  service,  and  it  should  be  his  aim  to 
discover  this.  There  is  of  course  the  danger  of  judg- 
ing too  favorably  of  ourselves,  and  running  where  we 
are  not  called,  and  the  opposite  danger  of  our  diffi- 
dence or  inertness  that  leads  some  to  hide  their  talent 
in  the  earth  ;  but  in  general,  if  a  man  will  be  true  and 
honest,  he  may  with  God's  help  come  to  know  what 
his  power  for  usefulness  is.  An  important  guide  in 
this  respect  is  the  opinion  of  our  fellow-men  when 
fairly  expressed.  If  there  be  a  strong  appeal  from 
them  for  our  help  in  a  good  work,  it  should  do  much 
to  counterbalance  a  sense  of  our  own  unfitness.  This 
is  one  of  the  marked  ways  in  which  Christ  speaks  to 
us. 

Another  rule  is  to  consider  well  where  God  has  placed 
us, —  our  position  in  life,  our  opportunities  for  particu- 
lar action  or  influence,  the  paths  in  which  we  move  in 
society,  the  leisure  that  lies  in  our  hand.  To  examine 
these  carefully,  and  see  how  we  can  with  all  wisdom 
turn  them  to  Christian  profit  is  a  great  matter  for 
every  one  of  us.  If  there  be  an  earnest  desire  to  do 
good  even  with  a  sense  of  much  unfitness,  it  is  marvel- 
lous how  fitness  will  grow.  He  who  sends  the  oppor- 
tunity and  the  desire  will  send  the  qualification,  and  I 
do  not  know  of  any  nobler  encomium  from  the  lips  of 
the  Great  Master  than  this,  "  She  bath  done  what  she 
could."  The  thought  of  having  it  from  Him  at  last 
may  strengthen  our  weak  hands  and  make  our  hearts 
leap  with  joy.  In  general,  I  believe  it  will  be  found 
that  the  best  Christian  work  is  not  far  from  our  own 
door,  and  that  those  are  mistaken  who  think  they  can 
do  nothing  till  they  find  some  great  sphere,  and  who 


174  WORK   AND   WATCHING. 

run  hither  and  thither  in  search  of  it.  Church  agencies 
have  their  high  value,  in  some  respects  they  are  in- 
dispensable, but  it  would  be  sad  indeed  if  they  could 
measure  in  their  records  all  the  work  of  Christ's 
servants.  It  is  often  most  effectually  performed  when 
it  is  done  in  no  church  connection,  but  noiselessly  and 
informally,  in  hidden  nooks  of  quiet  homes,  or  walking 
by  the  wayside  and  yet  scattering  seed  in  the  field.  A 
master  among  his  servants,  a  workman  among  his  as- 
sociates, a  mother  among  her  children,  a  sister  among 
brothers,  may  be  dropping  words  and  radiating  influ- 
ences of  which  there  shall  be  no  report  till  the  last 
great  disclosure  shall  bring  out  the  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant."  The  greatest  work  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  should  be  this  natural  outgoing  of  its  own 
life  —  a  life  which  should  obliterate  the  distinction 
between  the  religious  and  the  secular,  and  make  them 
both  one,  —  all  work,  religion,  —  and  all  life,  worship. 
Here  there  is  room  for  each  one,  whether  in  the  busy 
world  or  the  calmest  retreat ;  and  if  we  only  carefully 
seek  to  know  ivhat  we  are  and  ivhere  we  are,  and  put 
the  question  prayerfully,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do  ?  "  we  shall  find  that  the  Son  of  Man  lias 
given  us  our  work,  and  that  He  will  give  us  also 
strength  and  fitness  for  it. 

II.  We  come  now  to  consider,  in  the  second  place, 
the  watch  of  the  j^orter,  —  "  and  commanded  the  porter 
to  watch."  The  porter  is  that  one  of  the  servants 
whose  station  is  at  the  door  to  look  out  for  those  who 
approach,  and  open  to  them  if  they  have  right  to  enter. 
Are  we  to  understand  that  the  body  of  the  servants 


WORK    AND    WATCHING.  175 

are  exempted  from  watching  while  one  takes  the  duty 
for  them  ?  This  would  be  against  the  bearing  of  the 
whole  Bible  and  of  Christ's  own  teaching.  In  verse 
37th  of  this  chapter  He  guards  us  against  such  a  mis- 
apprehension, «  What  I  say  unto  you,  I  say  unto  all 
Watch."  The  object  of  our  Lord  is,  by  telling  us  that 
the  workmen  are  many  and  the  watchman  one,  to  im- 
press this  lesson,  that,  while  the  mode  of  labor  in  the 
house  may  vary,  there  is  something  common  to  all  who 
are  in  it, -the  duty  of  watchfulness.  The  porter 
must  stand  at  the  door  of  every  heart  while  that  heart 
pursues  its  work.  „ 

What  are  we  to  understand  then  by  the  watch  ot 
the  porter  ?     Some  say  it  is  prayer  -  to  be  constantly 
fulfilling    that   injunction,    "Pray  without   ceasing. 
And  certainly  prayer  is  closely  connected  with  watch- 
ing.    The  two   are   frequently   conjoined  by   Christ, 
«  Watch  and  pray,"  "  Watch  unto  prayer."     But  tins 
combination  of  them  shows  that  they  differ,  for  Scrip- 
ture uses  no  vain  repetitions.     The  parable  itself  wdl 
disclose  the  meaning.     The  master   of  the  house  is 
absent  and  the  period  of  his  return  is  uncertain.     The 
porter  is  stationed  at  the  door  to  look  out  for  the  signs 
of  his  coming,  and  give  timely  notice  of  it.     He  is  to 
have  his  eye  turned  also  inward  upon  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  house,  that  they  may  be  in  readiness  for 
the  Lord's  return.    This  return  of  Christ  is  at  the  end 
of  the  world,  to  take  account  not  only  of  his  professed 
servants,  but  of  all  men,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  from  the  moment  of  his  departure  He  has  charged 
his  Church  to  expect  his  re-appearance,  and  to  perform 
all  her  service  in  view  of  it.     When  the  cloud  received 


176  WORK   AND    WATCHING. 

Him,  and  his  disciples  looked  up  to  it  as  to  a  door  that 
closed  on  a  departing  friend,  the  angelic  attendants 
assured  them,  "  This  same  Jesus  shall  so  come  as  ye 
have  seen  Him  go  into  heaven,"  and  when  we  gaze  up 
into  that  broad  sky  in  the  glory  of  day  or  mystery  of 
night,  we  should  strive  to  realize  the  time  when  it 
shall  part  again  and  restore  our  unseen  Lord.  The 
Book  of  Revelation  which  concludes  the  canon  of  the 
Word  shows  the  attitude  of  the  Church, — her  eye 
searching  the  future,  her  arms  outstretched  in  longing 
as  his  were  in  blessing,  and  the  sigh  breathing  from 
her  heart,  "  Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus." 

This  great  event  is  constantly  represented  in  the 
New  Testament  as  near,  and  the  view  is  natural  and 
true.  Never  does  the  meeting  with  a  beloved  friend 
com  o  so  close  to  us  as  when  we  have  just  parted  from 
him.  Love  makes  the  tears  of  farewells  sparkle  into 
welcomes ;  and  if  we  could  only  retain  the  same  im- 
pression of  Christ's  loss,  his  return  would  be  as  nigh. 
It  is  moreover,  in  the  New  Testament,  the  great  event 
that  towers  above  every  other.  The  heaven,  that  gives 
back  Christ,  gives  back  all  we  have  loved  and  lost, 
solves  all  doubts,  and  ends  all  sorrows.  His  coming 
looks  in  upon  the  whole  life  of  his  Church,  as  a  lofty 
mountain  peak  looks  in  upon  every  little  valley  and 
sequestered  home  around  its  base,  and  belongs  to  them 
all  alike.  Every  generation  lies  under  the  shadow  of 
it,  for  whatever  is  transcenclently  great  is  constantly 
near,  and  in  moments  of  high  conviction  it  absorbs 
petty  interests  and  annihilates  intervals.  It  may 
surely  be  for  us  to  consider,  whether  our  removal  of 
Christ's  coming  further  from  us   in  feeling  does  not 


WORK    AND    WATCHING.  177 

arise  from  a  less  vivid  impression  of  its  reality  and 
surpassing  moment.  Such  views  depend  in  no  way 
upon  peculiar  opinions  regarding  his  advent,  for  the 
longing  expectancy  of  his  appearance  should  be  as 
common  to  all  Christians  as  is  their  hope,  and  a  thou- 
sand years  are  as  a  day  to  the  grand  event  which 
opens  everlasting  life.  What  is  the  crust  of  a  few  cen- 
turies or  millenniums,  if  the  great  ocean  of  eternity 
be  felt  heaving  underneath,  surging  up  through  the 
chasms  which  death  reveals,  and  admonishing  us  of 
the  time  when  it  shall  sweep  away  all  barriers,  and 
leave  nothing  but  its  own  infinite  bosom  ? 

To  be  constantly  realizing  this,  and  living  and  labor- 
ing in  the  prospect  of  it,  is,  we  believe,  what  is  here 
enjoined  in  the  admonition  "  to  watch."  It  is  to  do 
all  our  work  with  the  thought  of  his  eye  measuring  it, 
as  of  a  friend  who  is  ever  present  to  our  soul,  gone 
from  us  in  outward  form,  sure  to  return,  and  mean- 
while near  in  spirit,  —  to  subject  our  plans  and  acts  to 
his  approval,  asking  ourselves  at  every  step  how  this 
would  please  Him,  shrinking  from  what  would  cloud 
his  face,  rejoicing  with  great  joy  in  all  that  would 
meet  his  smile.  If  God  has  taken  from  us  earthly 
friends,  and  if  we  continue  to  think  of  them  with  the 
warm  love  of  earth  mingling  in  the  awe  of  the  unseen, 
it  is  to  help  us  to  rise  to  the  conception  of  that  great- 
est Friend  who  will  bring  them  back  at  his  return  and 
give  us  their  approval  in  his  own.  At  the  same  time 
there  is  included,  in  the  view  of  Christ's  coming,  the 
thought  of  our  owrn  death,  which  brings  each  one  of  us 
close  up  to  his  second  advent,  whensoever  it  may  be. 
Every  life  has  an  end,  as  momentous  to  it  as  the  end 

12 


178  WORK    AND    WATCHING. 

of  the  world,  for  it  places  it  immediately  before  the 
judgment-seat,  and  subjects  it  to  the  omniscient  eye. 
The  peculiarity  of  the  Christian  view  is  that  our  own 
death  and  Christ's  coming  are  seen  in  one  line  of  per- 
spective, and  that  all  our  work  should  be  done  looking- 
for  that  blessed  hope,  "  the  glorious  appearing  of  the 
great  God,  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." 

It  is  in  most  cases  a  much  harder  thing  to  preserve 
this  watchful  heart  than  to  have  our  hands  busy  with 
the  work  of  the  house,  and  therefore,  probably,  the 
emphasis  which  our  Lord  puts  on  it  —  "He  gave  to 
every  man  his  work  "  —  "  He  commanded  the  porter  to 
watch."  But,  if  attended  to,  it  will  bring  its  propor- 
tionate benefit.  It  will  keep  all  wakeful,  for  nothing 
is  so  fitted  to  rouse  from  the  lethargy  that  falls  on 
every  spirit  as  the  thought  of  the  day  of  his  coming. 
It  will  preserve  purity  if  we  have  before  us  those  eyes 
that  are  like  a  flame  of  fire,  and  so  we  shall  "  give  all 
diligence  to  be  found  of  Him  without  spot,  and  blame- 
less." It  will  maintain  the  soul  in  calmness,  for  not 
those  who  are  heedless  feel  the  depth  of  security,  but 
those  who  have  set  their  watch  and  go  their  steadfast 
rounds.  And  it  will  rise  increasingly  to  the  fervor  of 
prayer,  —  that  prayer  which  is  the  strength  of  the  soul 
and  the  life  of  all  work.  The  thought  of  that  grand 
presence,  which  shall  break  down  through  the  skies 
to  fill  our  world  and  test  and  renew  all  things,  shall 
make  our  hearts  burn  up  like  a  fire  to  meet  Him  — 
"  Watch  ye  therefore,  and  pray  always,  that  ye  may 
be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  all  these  things  that 
shall  come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before  the  Son  of 
Man"  (Lukexxi.  36). 


WORK    AND   WATCHING.  179 

III.  We  come  now,  in  the  third  place,  to  show  the 
bearing  of  these  tivo  duties  upon  each  other. 

On  the  one  hand,  work  cannot  be  rightly  performed 
without  watching.  If  watching  were  absent,  work 
would  be  blind,  and  without  a  purpose.  It  would  be 
work  without  a  proper  crowning  close,  and  without  a 
master  to  sum  up  all  its  results.  The  foresight  of  the 
conclusion  to  which  we  are  advancing  makes  us  intel- 
ligent fellow-laborers  with  God,  and  helps  us  to  con- 
centrate our  efforts  on  the  one  great  issue.  It  is  this 
which  lifts  Christianity  above  all  the  philosophies. 
They  can  only  wish  or  guess  what  the  future  may 
bring,  and  can  work  vaguely  in  the  house,  but  have 
no  watchman  at  the  door.  They  may  have  the  hand 
and  the  foot,  but  they  want  the  eye  and  the  ear  which 
can  perceive  already  the  signs  and  opening  harmonies 
of  a  new  world  —  which  learn  from  the  mind  of  Christ 
the  preparations  that  are  needed  for  the  kingdom  which 
is  righteousness  and  peace  and  joy. 

If  watching  were  absent,  work  would  become  dis- 
couraging and  tedious.  It  would  stretch  away  endlessly 
into  a  limitless  future,  where  each  man's  effort  would 
disappear  in  the  general  mass  of  human  struggle,  like 
rivers  in  a  shadowy,  shoreless  sea.  We  could  not  long- 
have  heart  for  such  work  where  we  could  neither  per- 
ceive one  grand  consummation  nor  the  share  we  were 
to  have  in  helping  it.  But  now  the  coming  of  Christ 
tells  us  there  is  a  fixed  and  most  blissful  close,  and  every 
earnest  man,  and  every  earnest  effort,  shall  be  found 
to  have  a  part  in  hastening  it.  There  is  no  selfishness 
in  being  stimulated  by  this,  for  it  is  a  divine  desire  to 
be  made  like  God,  channels  of  life  and  happiness,  and 


180  WORK   AND   WATCHING. 

it  is  but  a  portion  of  the  heart  of  Him  who  renounc  id 
self,  and  who,  for  such  a  joy,  endured  the  cross  an  1 
despised  the  shame.  If  we  would  see  its  results,  we 
have  only  to  compare  the  fitful  efforts  of  any  human 
system  with  the  everlasting  wells  of  benevolence  that 
have  sprung  up  for  eighteen  hundred  years  from  the 
thought  of  a  departed  and  returning  Christ. 

If  watching  were  absent,  work  would  become  formal 
and  dead.  The  labor  of  the  hands,  as  we  all  feel,  de- 
generates quickly  into  barren  routine,  if  there  be  not 
a  constant  effort  to  keep  the  heart  fresh.  Duty  can 
never  live  long  separate  from  truth,  Christian  service 
from  Christ.  There  must  be  oil  in  the  lamp  if  it  is  to 
burn.  It  is  watching  unto  prayer  that  brings  in  this 
Divine  life,  that  quickens  the  powers,  and  makes  them 
rise  up  for  new  and  higher  work.  The  special  danger 
of  our  age  is  that  we  may  lose  perception  of  the  real 
soul  and  end  of  all  our  labor  in  the  multiplied  machin- 
ery that  carries  it  on.  Our  very  Christian  activities 
will  lead  to  decline  and  death  if  spiritual  life  is  not 
growing  within,  in  proportion  to  them,  —  if  we  are  not 
realizing  more  strongly  our  own  individual  spiritual 
wants,  living  more  in  the  presence  of  eternity,  and  re- 
membering that  admonition  which  stands  connected 
with  Christ  —  "  Be  watchful,  and  strengthen  the  things 
which  remain,  that  are  ready  to  die." 

But  if  work  cannot  be  performed  without  watching, 
on  the  other  hand,  watching  will  not  suffice  without 
work. 

Without  work,  watching  would  be  solitary.  There 
do  seem  times  when  God  shuts  a  heart  up  to  this  — 
when  pining  sickness  or  sore  bereavement  makes  work 


WORK    AND    WATCHING.  181 

impossible  or  utterly  distasteful,  and  one  feels  as  if  he 
could  only  bold  himself  above  despair,  and  look  out  for 
that  Christ  who  is  to  heal  all.  And  yet  we  believe  there 
is  no  one  in  this  world  irretrievably  condemned  to  such 
a  life.  The  loneliest  sick-bed,  the  darkest  chamber  of 
sorrow,  never  loses  the  power  of  Christian  influence, 
and  He  who  trode  the  wine-press  alone,  and  all  the  while 
was  saving  others  —  who  made  his  cross  a  place  to 
preach  comfort  from  —  surely  teaches  us  how  possible 
it  is,  and  how  noble,  for  a  crushed  and  broken  heart  to 
forget  itself.  Then  it  is  doing  its  greatest  work  for 
Christ,  and  drawing  to  it  the  hand  that  will  bind  its 
cruel  wounds  and  give  it  all  its  desire.  We  may  make 
the  night  solitary  to  ourselves  if  we  banish  the  watch- 
man from  the  sound  of  all  service,  and  bury  our  soul 
in  bitter  musings  ;  but  we  should  rather  thank  God 
that  there  is  no  spot  on  earth  where  some  duty  does 
not  still  remain,  and,  in  the  calm  steadfast  pursuance 
of  it,  we  should  beguile  the  hours  of  the  night  till  "  the 
day  break  and  the  shadows  flee  away." 

Without  work,  watching  is  subject  to  many  tempta- 
tions. There  are  men  who  have  placed  the  essence  of 
the  Christian  life  in  solitude  and  contemplation,  and 
imagined  they  were  thereby  fleeing  from  the  world's 
dangers  and  their  own  passions.  It  is  against  the  ex- 
ample of  Christ  and  all  his  apostles,  and  we  know  how 
sadly  in  most  cases  it  has  failed.  We  know  how  empty 
speculation  and  vanity  and  pride  have  sprung  up  in 
such  idle  isolation,  and  how  evil  desires  come  more 
readily  to  the  inactive  watcher  than  to  the  busy  worker. 
There  is  a  rest  and  a  heaven  within,  which  souls  weary 
of  the  world  may  find,  but  it  is  discovered  best  in  the 


182  WORK    AND    WATCHING. 

world's  midst,  seeking  its  good  and  doing  his  will  who 
lived  and  died  to  save  it. 

And  then,  last  of  all,  watching  without  work  is  un- 
ready for  Christ.  The  solitary  watcher  can  have  no 
works  of  faith  nor  labors  of  love  to  present,  no  saved 
souls  to  offer  for  the  Redeemer's  crown,  and  no  crown  of 
righteousness  to  receive  from  Him.  He  may  be  "  look- 
ing for,"  but  he  is  not  "  hasting  unto,"  the  coming  of 
the  day  of  God,  standing  with  "  his  lamp  burning," 
but  not  with  "  his  loins  girt."  He  is  saved,  but  alone, 
as  on  a  board  or  broken  piece  of  the  ship,  not  as  they 
who  have  many  voices  of  blessing  around,  and  many 
welcomes  before,  and  to  whom  an  entrance  is  min- 
istered abundantly  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of 
their  Lord  and  Saviour. 

Let  us  see  then  the  fitness  of  this  union.  "  The 
Son  of  Man  gave  to  every  man  his  work,  and  com- 
manded the  porter  to  watch."  What  need  of  work ! 
The  world  how  dark  —  the  soul  how  precious  —  time 
how  short  —  life  how  irreparable  —  inquisition  and 
judgment  how  stern  !  How  much  need  of  watching ! 
How  deceitful  our  hearts  —  how  many  our  enemies  — 
how  insensibly  slumber  creeps  on  —  how  dreadful  to 
be  found  sunk  in  carnal  sleep  on  the  breaking  of  the 
great  day  of  God  ! 

That  man  is  happy  who  can  combine  them  in  per- 
fect harmony  —  who  has  Stephen's  life  of  labor  and 
Stephen's  vision  in  the  end.  In  every  soul  there 
should  be  the  sisters  of  Bethany,  active  effort  and 
quiet  thought,  and  both  agreeing  in  mutual  love 
and  help.  But  Mary  no  longer  sits  at  the  feet  of 
Christ  and  looks  in  his  face ;  she  stands  at  the  door 


WORK   AND   WATCHING.  183 

and  gazes  out  into  the  open  sky  to  watch  the  tokens 
of  his  coming,  while  in  this  hope  her  sister  in  the 
house  still  works.  In  due  time  He  will  be  here  to 
crown  every  humble  effort  with  overflowing  grace, 
to  satisfy  the  longing  soul  that  looks  for  Him,  and 
to  raise  all  the  dead  for  whom  we  weep. 

But  what  of  those  who  neither  work  nor  watch,  who 
serve  their  own  pleasure  and  forget  that  there  is  a 
coming  hour  which  must  give  account  of  all  ?  If  there 
be  any  purpose  in  God's  world,  or  truth  in  his  book, 
or  meaning  in  conscience,  such  an  hour  must  arrive. 
"  If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the 
ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear  ?  "  There  is  but  one 
resource  for  any  man  —  to  grasp  in  faith  the  cross  of 
Him  who  shall  come  on  the  throne.  That  cross  dis- 
arms all  the  lightnings  of  his  hand,  for  it  finds  an 
answer  in  his  heart.  To  know  it,  live  by  it,  serve 
under  it,  is  true  life  now,  and  to  look  for  its  sign 
in  the  sky  is  the  good  hope,  through  grace,  of  life 
eternal. 


XI. 


Jiuriat  of  J|osa:  ite   foons  and   Motions, 


"  And  the  Lord  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab, 
over  against  Beth-pcor ;  but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre 
unto  this  day."  —  Deut.  xxxiv.  6. 


HERE  is  something  strange  and  altogether 
singular  in  this,  that  Moses,  the  greatest  of 
V?*#  all  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  should  find 
a  resting-place  in  the  earth  and  no  man  be  able  to 
point  it  out.  The  sepulchres  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  are  known  among  the  groves  of  Hebron ;  the 
bones  of  Joseph,  after  many  wanderings,  rest  in 
Shechem,  in  that  parcel  of  ground  which  his  father 
gave  to  him,  the  best  beloved  son.  Rachel's  tomb, 
watered  by  many  a  tear,  stands  on  the  way  to  "  Ephrath 
which  is  Bethlehem,"  for  there  her  strength  failed  her, 
and  she  sank,  as  did  all  the  ancient  saints,  on  the  way 
to  that  birthplace  of  hope.  The  sepulchre  of  David  is 
by  Jerusalem,  the  home  of  his  heart.  But  the  last 
abode  of  Moses,  the  servant  of  God  and  the  lawgiver 
of  Israel,  is  claimed  by  no  city  in  the  wide  land. 


ETC.         185 

It  was  certainly  not  neglect  on  the  part  of  his  people 
that  left  the  spot  unmarked.  They  murmured  often 
against  him,  but,  long  before  he  died,  discontent 
was  hushed,  and  he  had  taken  a  place  in  their  hearts 
never  occupied  by  any  other,  for  "  there  arose  not 
a  prophet  since  in  Israel  like  unto  Moses,  whom  the 
Lord  knew  face  to  face."  It  was  not  what  a  Jew 
would  have  wished  or  feigned.  Had  popular  feeling 
constructed  the  history  it  would  have  framed  this  part 
otherwise,  and  assigned  to  Moses  some  well-known 
sepulchre,  which  would  have  drawn  to  it  pilgrim  feet, 
and  made  the  land  of  promise  to  a  Jewish  heart  still 
more  dear.  There  is  one  of  the  little  tokens  in  this 
that  the  Bible  is  not  a  human  book.  It  meets  the  need 
of  man  deep  down,  where  at  first  he  himself  does  not 
recognize  it,  but  it  contradicts  many  of  his  superficial 
desires ;  and  yet  these  very  contradictions  of  desire 
may  be  found,  when  carefully  considered,  to  have 
tokens  of  a  Divine  wisdom  in  them.  It  may  be  worth 
at  least  one  discourse  to  inquire  whether  it  is  not  so  in 
the  striking  exception  which  God  has  made  in  regard 
to  the  burial  of  Moses. 

Even  though  we  knew  nothing  more,  we  might  infer 
that  this  closing  incident,  in  the  history  of  the  greatest 
man  in  the  Old  Testament  Church,  must  have  been 
often  read  and  attentively  pondered.  The  place  and 
the  manner  of  burial,  in  that  ancient  time,  were  sub- 
jects of  deep  interest,  were  often  carefully  prescribed 
by  the  dying  man,  and  were  sacredly  cared  for  by  the 
survivors.  The  way  in  which  a  man  "  was  gathered 
to  his  fathers  "  has  its  record  in  the  Word  of  God,  and 
its  meaning.     No  Jew  therefore  could  pass  this  by 


186  THE   BURIAL   OF   MOSES: 

with  indifference  when  he  thought  of  Moses  and  his 
death.  We  know  from  their  traditions  that  it  was 
frequently  discussed,  and  in  one  part  of  the  Xew 
Testament  (Jude  ix.)  the  dispute  about  the  body  of 
Moses  is  distinctly  referred  to,  whatever  interpretation 
we  may  choose  to  attach  to  that  peculiar  passage. 

This  further  may  be  said,  that,  the  more  carefully 
we  study  the  Old  Testament,  the  more  we  shall  be  con- 
vinced that  it  contains  a  development  of  truth,  not 
merely  by  spoken  revelations,  but  through  events  and 
incidents  divinely  arranged,  and  made  the  subjects  of 
thought  to  those  ancient  believers,  under  the  teaching 
of  God's  Spirit.  These  incidents  are  planted  like 
seeds  in  the  popular  heart,  and  grow  up  slowly  into 
leaf  and  flower  in  recognized  doctrines.  This  was 
Christ's  own  method  of  instruction  in  his  miracles  and 
parables,  and  we  may  expect  to  find  it  in  the  Divine 
history  throughout.  Xo  one  can^close  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  open  the  Xew  without  seeing  that,  during 
the  interval,  immense  progress  had  been  made  in  the 
unfolding  of  religious  truth.  The  expectation  of  a 
Redeemer  and  a  redemption  had  become  clear  and  con- 
centrated, and  the  belief  in  an  eternal  life,  and  in  the 
resurrection,  was  held  by  many.  There  is,  we  believe, 
no  satisfactory  way  of  accounting  for  this  but  by 
the  work  of  God's  own  Spirit,  in  the  hearts  of  thought- 
ful men,  using  for  his  instrument  the  revelation  which 
had  been  already  given.  We  shall  take  the  account 
of  the  death  and  burial  of  Moses,  and  seek  to  show 
how  it  was  fitted  to  be  such  a  source  of  fruitful  re- 
flection to  the  Old  Testament  Church. 


ITS   LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  187 

I.  God  ivill  have  no  one,  living  or  dead,  to  stand 
between  his  creatures  and  Himself. 

The  first  great  lesson  which  the  Jewish  people  were 
to  be  taught  was  the  supremacy  of  the  one  true  God. 
This  was  the  indispensable  basis  of  every  other  revela- 
tion,—  the  one  God,  alone,  supreme,  —  and  then  his 
attributes,  his  law,  his  way  to  man.  They  were  taken 
from  among  the  nations  and  reclaimed  from  idolatry 
to  carry  this  truth  to  the  world  ;  and  then,  when  sov- 
ereignty was  established,  mercy  could  be  fully  pro- 
claimed. It  was  the  life-long  work  of  Moses  to  fix  this 
truth  of  God's  sovereignty.  The  word  given  him  to 
bear  was,  "  Hear,  0  Israel !  the  Lord  our  God  is  one 
Lord."  All  his  labors  and  his  trials  arose  from  the 
difficulty  of  impressing  this  on  their  deep  and  constant 
conviction,  and  his  death  would  have  had  no  regret  to 
him  had  he  felt  assured  his  work  was  done.  How  sol- 
emn and  pathetic  his  warnings  to  cleave  to  the  true 
God  and  wander  to  no  other,  as  if  he  felt  already  the 
misgivings  of  their  defection. 

And  yet  what  he  had  done  for  them  made  it  not  un- 
likely that  their  reverence  for  him  might  prove  their 
snare,  and  that  they  might  be  tempted  to  give  him  the 
place  he  desired  to  secure  for  God.  Moses  had  been 
to  them  more  than  ever  man  was  to  a  nation,  —  their 
deliverer  from  the  most  crushing  bondage,  their  leader 
through  the  most  terrible  scenes,  wielding  in  their 
behalf  the  highest  powers  of  nature  and  gifts  of  the 
soul  —  their  lawgiver,  their  prophet,  their  advocate 
with  God.  In  every  strait  they  had  fled  to  Moses  and 
found  in  him  sympathy  and  relief.  In  all  their  way- 
wardness and  rebellion,  his  heart  never  turned  from 


188  THE    BURIAL    OF    MOSES  : 

them.  Their  murmurs  against  him  were  many  ;  but, 
long  ere  he  died,  his  self-devotion  and  magnanimity 
had  found  fitting  acknowledgment.  The  clear,  calm 
grandeur  of  his  soul  had  risen  above  the  clouds  of 
their  discontent,  and  he  had  taken  a  place  never  ap- 
proached by  any  other.  He  stood  at  the  head  separated 
from  them  all,  —  "  Moses  and  the  prophets  ;  "  and  UA 
prophet  like  unto  Moses  "  was  the  name  for  that  Mes- 
senger from  God  who  was  to  complete  every  Divine 
mission. 

The  danger  came,  that  death,  which  lifts  every  great 
man  higher,  might  have  raised  Moses  above  the  lesson 
of  his  life  —  the  unapproachable  supremacy  of  God 
himself.  The  deification  of  their  heroes  was  the  man- 
ner of  the  nations  round  them  —  it  was  the  atmosphere 
of  the  age,  and  in  this  event  we  can  surely  see,  first  of 
all,  a  means  taken  to  guard  the  Israelites  from  the 
temptation.  Had  Moses  himself  obtained  his  choice, 
it  would  have  been  that,  in  death,  he  might  carry  out 
the  lesson  of  his  life,  and  here  he  gains  it.  He  dies 
apart,  and  is  buried  in  secret,  where  his  grave  can  be 
dishonored  by  no  pilgrimage,  and  where  no  false  ven- 
eration can  rear  altars  to  his  memory.  And  this  first 
lesson  did  not  fail.  The  nation  worshipped  many 
strange  deities,  but  it  never  gave  the  place  of  God  to 
his  prophets.  If  any  life  could  have  tempted  them  to 
such  a  course  it  would  have  been  that  of  Moses,  and 
when  God  removes  him  from  their  sight,  and  leaves 
no  relic  for  sense  or  imagination  to  build  its  worship 
on,  there  is  no  successor  of  Moses  who  can  assume  the 
place. 


ITS   LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  189 

II.  God  wishes  men  to  see  something  more  left  of  his 
servants  than  the  outward  shrine. 

In  the  history  of  the  greatest  and  the  best,  the  tomb 
is  often  remembered  and  the  life  forgotten.  It  is  an 
easier  thing  to  revere  the  dust  than  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple. There  is  an  admonition  in  the  Bible,  "  Remember 
them  which  have  the  rule  over  yon,  who  have  spoken 
unto  you  the  word  of  God  :  whose  faith  follow,  consid- 
ering the  end  of  their  conversation  "  (Heb.  xiii.  7)  ; 
and  here  at  the  commencement  of  the  lengthened  roll, 
God  inscribes  it  on  an  emphatic  act.  He  takes  away 
the  grave  of  Moses,  that  they  may  have  before  them, 
in  full  and  undisturbed  relief,  the  man  himself.  His 
words  living  and  dying,  his  walk  with  God  till  God 
took  him,  all  that  he  was  to  God  and  to  them,  in  self- 
devotion  and  affection,  —  these  survive  him  and  can 
never  die.  If  they  came  to  his  grave,  they  approached 
the  creature  and  its  fleeting  part ;  but  in  coming  to  his 
words  and  his  life,  they  come  to  Moses  himself  and  to 
God. 

And  may  we  not  see  a  similar  lesson  in  this,  that 
the  sepulchre  of  the  greater  Prophet  than  Moses  is 
equally  unknown,  and  may  we  not  wonder  that  Chris- 
tians, under  a  system  of  spirit  and  life,  have  been  more 
slow  than  Jews  to  learn  the  lesson  ?  Once,  and  once 
only,  were  men  invited  "  to  see  the  place  where  the 
Lord  lay,"  that  they  might  be  assured  it  was  empty, 
and  refrain  any  more  from  seeking  the  living  among 
the  dead.  If  research  the  most  patient  has  hitherto 
done  aught,  it  has  been  to  show  that  the  spot  has  left 
no  trace  upon  our  earth,  God  lias  made  the  march  of 
armies  and  the  desolation  of  centuries  do  for  the  sep- 


190  THE   BURIAL   OF   MOSES  : 

ulchre  of  Christ  what  his  own  hand  did  for  the  grave 
of  Moses.  He  could  scarcely  have  condemned  more 
strikingly,  in  history,  that  idolatry  of  place  and  form 
which  has  usurped  so  long  the  worship  of  the  spirit. 
The  Christian  Church,  no  less  than  the  Jewish,  is  taught 
to  look  to  the  life  and  doctrine  of  its  great  Lawgiver 
with  this  distinction,  that  we  know  most  surely  where 
He  is,  to  draw  souls  to  Himself,  and  whence  He  shall 
come  "  to  change  these  vile  bodies,  and  fashion  them 
like  unto  his  own  glorious  body." 

III.  God  takes  the  honor  of  his  servants  into  his  oivn 
keeping. 

The  people  of  Israel  must  be  taught,  in  the  beginning 
of  their  history,  that  the  messengers  of  truth  do  not 
come  from  their  midst,  but  from  a  Master  above.  Man's 
philosophy  is  the  offspring  of  the  soil  of  this  earth.  It 
appeals  to  man's  reason,  and  finds  there  its  reward. 
But  God's  law  descends  from  God's  throne,  and,  while 
it  meets  the  requirements  of  man's  nature,  it  is  not 
responsible  to  them.  Every  true  bearer  of  it  has  his 
errand  from  God,  gives  his  account  to  Him,  and  finds 
his  reward  in  Gocl  at  last. 

This  lesson  must  be  taught  in  the  life  and  death  of 
the  first  of  that  lengthened  line  of  messengers  who  are 
to  present  Divine  truth  to  the  world.  The  object  of 
the  Bible  is  to  send  into  the  world  men  who  may  wit- 
ness to  their  fellow-men  for  God,  and  of  Him,  and 
witness  in  fearless  confidence,  as  feeling  that,  whether 
they  live  or  die,  it  is  to  God  they  belong ;  who  will 
speak  to  men,  "  whether  they  hear  or  whether  they 
forbear,"  and  say  with  Paul,  "  with  me  it  is  a  very 


ITS   LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  191 

small  thing  that  I. should  be  judged  of  you  or  of  man's 
judgment :  he  that  judgeth  me  is  the  Lord !  " 

We  need  such  an  order  of  men  still,  not  self-assum- 
ing or  dominant,  as  "  lords  over  God's  heritage,"  but 
gentle  among  them,  while  loyal  to  truth  and  to  its  God, 
—  men  of  kingly  nature,  because  they  serve  a  heavenly 
Master,  and  who  are  bold  to  utter  his  word  without 
fear  and  without  favor.  Never  since  the  world  began 
were  such  men  needed  more.  And  let  it  be  remem- 
bered that,  while  this  duty  falls  with  double  weight  on 
those  who  have  been  called  to  it  by  the  rule  of  God's 
house,  it  does  not  belong  to  them  alone.  Wherever  a 
man  feels  the  force  of  Divine  truth  within  him,  he 
should  be  fearless  in  his  place  to  speak  it  out,  without 
shrinking,  and  to  show  that  he  is  a  witness  for  God. 
It  was  the  noble  wish  of  Moses,  "  Would  that  all  the 
Lord's  people  were  prophets,"  and  all  that  follow  him, 
however  humbly,  to  testify,  in  word  or  deed,  to  the 
truth  of  God,  shall  have  a  share  in  his  reward.  "  This 
honor  have  all  his  saints." 

How  faithfully  to  men,  and  also  how  kindly,  would 
all  our  work  be  done,  if  we  had  our  account,  not  to  them, 
but  to  God,  ever  in  our  eye  !  Moses  ascends  the  mount 
to  learn  God's  will,  and,  when  he  has  finished  his  work, 
he  goes  to  Him  to  die,  and  to  find  from  Him  his  sepul- 
chre. He,  whose  servant  he  is,  takes  him  back  into 
his  keeping,  in  the  spirit  of  that  grand  old  psalm  which 
comes  down  to  us  as  "  the  prayer  of  Moses  the  man  of 
God  "  (Psalm  xc),  —  "  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwell- 
ing place  in  all  generations." 

"  The  Lord  buried  him."  There  is  a  higher  honor 
conferred  on  him  than  if  all  Israel  had  met  to  weep 
and  lament,  or  Lhe  world  assembled  to  his  obsequies. 


192  THE   BURIAL    OF    MOSES: 

And  when  God  buried  him,  this,  too,  was  part  of  his 
care,  to  give  him  a  fitting  site  for  his  tomb,  not  in  Ca- 
naan, though  his  heart  was  there,  and  his  people's  home, 
but  on  the  other  side  Jordan,  and  nigh  to  that  desert 
where  the  labor  of  his  life  had  been.  Forty  years' 
toil  and  travail,  and  then  the  long  quiet  sleep  beside  his 
work,  looking  to  where  Sinai  throws  its  shadow,  and 
Horeb  piles  its  rocks,  in  advance  to  the  land  of  promise 
but  not  within  it,  like  a  noble  leader  who  sinks  on  the 
edge  of  battle  and  in  the  path  of  victory,  and  then 
reposes  where  he  falls  !  That  wilderness  is  his  monu- 
ment, which  his  faith  and  courage  have  made  illustri- 
ous, shining  all  through  it  yet,  as  the  fiery  pillar 
lightened  up  its  darkness,  and  making  it,  whenever  we 
think  of  it,  still  glorious  with  Moses'  name. 

IV.  God  would  teach  men  that  Tie  has  a  relation  to  his 
servants  ivhich  extends  beyond  their  death. 

The  great  truths  of  life  and  immortality  must  surely 
have  begun  to  stir  in  the  hearts  of  thoughtful  men 
when  they  knew  this,  that  "  the  Lord  buried  him." 
Shall  GqcI,  then,  pay  such  regard  to  the  perishable 
frame,  and  neglect  the  nobler  part  which  dwelt  in  it  ? 
The  outward  shape  and  fashioning  of  clay,  made  of  the 
dust  and  returning  to  it,  was  this  then  Moses,  and  not 
rather  the  living  soul,  breathed  into  it  by  God,  as 
Moses  himself  records  ?  and  can  the  Maker  put  so  dis- 
proportionate an  estimate  upon  his  own  handiwork,  as 
carefully  to  store  up  the  casket  and  throw  away  the  pre- 
cious jewel  which  it  held  ?  Could  we  cherish  the  por- 
trait of  one  beloved  and  leave  himself  to  perish,  when 
we  might  save  him  by  stretching  out  the  hand  ?  Can  this 
be  the  kindness  of  God  to  his  friends  ?  —  for  cither  lie 


ITS   LESSONS   AND   SUGGESTIONS.  193 

must  wish  to  preserve  the  souls  of  his  servants  and 
want  the  power,  or  He  must  possess  the  power  but 
want  the  wish  ;  and  where,  in  the  one  case,  would  be 
a  God  worthy  of  reverence,  or  where,  in  the  other,  a 
God  who  could  attract  our  love  ? 

But  when  men  become  assured  of  his  power,  that  He 
is  the  Father  of  spirits,  and  when  He  proves  such  re- 
gard to  the  frail  and  fading  form,  the  burial  of  Moses 
might  become  God's  way  of  leading  reflective  men  out 
to  hopeful  thoughts  of  the  spirit  that  had  given  such 
brightness  to  the  now  darkened  face.  When  such  ques- 
tionings arose,  "  Wilt  thou  show  wonders  to  the  dead  ? 
Shall  the  dead  arise  and  praise  thee  ?  (Ps.  lxxxviii. 
10)  ;  then  a  record  like  this  might  lead  to  the  convic- 
tion, "  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death 
of  his  saints"  (Ps.  cxvi.  15).  "  Therefore  my  heart  is 
glad,  and  my  glory  rejoiceth ;  my  flesh  also  shall 
rest  in  hope.  Thou  wilt  show  me  the  path  of  life  "  (Ps. 
xvi.  9). 

Let  it  not  be  thought  we  ask  too  much  reflection 
here  from  these  ancient  believers.  That  they  pondered 
such  questions  anxiously  all  their  writings  show,  and 
that  they  found  deep  truths  in  the  law  of  God  these 
psalms  attest.  We  are  left  to  infer  many  of  the  steps  ; 
but  we  know  that  the  plan  chosen  by  God  for  some  of 
his  greatest  revelations  was  to  set  before  men  events 
and  incidents  which  arrested  their  thought,  and  guided 
them,  by  the  teaching  of  his  Spirit,  to  farther  conclu- 
sions. A  wise  instructor  employs  not  only  his  own 
mind,  but  a  book  which  he  sets  before  the  scholar's 
eye,  and  God's  book  was  the  history  of  his  dealings  in 
these  events  of  life  and  death. 

13 


194  THE    BURIAL   OF   MOSES: 

And  such  a  record  as  this  must  have  led  to  thoughts 
not  only  of  the  soul  of  man  but  of  the  body  also.  It 
is  a  God-given  instinct  that  leads  man  to  reverence  the 
frame  in  which  the  living  spirit  dwelt,  and  to  see  it  laid 
aside  with  pious  care.  There  is  a  dim  groping  in  it 
after  the  hope  that  this  part  of  our  nature  is  also  true, 
and  will  be  made  in  some  way  perpetual.  "  Thou  wilt 
have  a  desire  to  the  work  of  thy  hands."  "  They  that 
sleep  in  the  dust  shall  awake."  And  when  "  the  Lord 
buried  him,"  He  who  made  us  identified  Himself  with 
this  instinctive  feeling  of  the  heart.  It  is  in  a  line 
with  his  own  procedure,  when  He  sent  his  Son  in 
human  nature  and  raised  Him  in  it  from  the  dead,  and 
"set  him  at  his  own  right  hand  in  heavenly  places." 
Whatever  is  good  in  the  first  creation  is  taken  up  into 
redemption  to  be  ennobled  and  made  immortal.  The 
burial  of  Moses  is  a  step  towards  the  resurrection  of 
Christ,  taken  after  the  manner  of  that  ancient  dispen- 
sation, dimly  but  tenderly.  The  seed  is  carefully  laid 
in  the  earth,  as  by  One  who  knows  that  it  is  precious, 
and  who  purposes  to  watch  over  it,  and  then  the  first- 
fruits  rise  as  the  pledge  of  the  full  harvest  which  is  yet 
to  come.  All  this  to  the  mind  of  an  Israelite  must 
have  been  at  first  dark  and  doubtful ;  but  there  was 
enough  in  it  to  stimulate  inquiry,  and  gradually 
quicken  it  into   hope. 

"  The  Lord  buried  him."  It  assures  us  Christians 
of  things  more  clear,  tells  us  that  the  dust  of  God's 
servants  is  dear  in  his  sight,  and  that  his  hand  keeps 
it  safe  against  the  clay  of  the  redemption  of  the  body. 
They  may  sleep  in  desert  sands  or  frozen  wreaths,  in 
the  crowded  city  or  the  ocean's  bed,  "  their  ashes  may 


ITS    LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  195 

fly  no  marble  tells  us  whither,"  but  his  eye  watches 
over  them  as  carefully  as  it  did  over  this  grave,  which 
his  own  hand  in  some  mysterious  way  formed  and 
closed ;  and  He  will  bring  them  forth  every  one  when 
"  He  write th  up  the  people." 

V.  God  would  teach  men  from  the  very  first  that  his 
regard  is  not  confined  to  any  chosen  soil. 

This  was  a  danger  into  which  these  Israelites  were 
ready  henceforth  to  fall.  They  were  to  be  inclosed  in 
one  land  that  they  might  preserve  the  truth  of  God 
from  corruption,  and  they  were  tempted  thereby  to 
narrow  their  sympathies,  and  deny  that  the  truth 
could  ever  extend  beyond  it.  But  here  in  the  burial 
of  their  first  and  greatest  prophet  God  leads  them  out 
to  wider  views,  if  they  are  willing  to  learn. 

"  The  Lord  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of 
Moab,  over  against  Beth-peor."  It  must  have  seemed 
strange  when  they  entered  the  Land  of  Promise  that 
they  could  not  carry  the  founder  of  their  nation  with 
them.  It  would  have  been  the  glory  of  their  soil,  the 
pride  and  boast  of  the  land  of  Israel,  and  when  the 
Jew  thought  of  it  the  earth  would  have  seemed  more 
sacred  because  the  dust  of  Moses  mingled  with  it. 
They  may  bear  Joseph's  bones  across  the  Jordan,  but 
a  greater  is  left  behind  in  Moab,  in  the  land  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  all  their  power  cannot  change  this  pur- 
pose of  God.  This  prerogative  Gentiledom  possesses 
over  Judaism,  from  the  very  commencement,  that 
it  owns  the  sepulchre  of  Judah's  lawgiver,  and  thus 
God  would  teach  them  that  the  desire  to  make  their 
land  the  only  land  of  God  is  vain.     It  could  not  but 


196  THE   BURIAL   OF   MOSES: 

extend  the  sympathies  and  views  of  the  Jew  to  a  wider 
range.  When  he  came  up  to  his  yearly  festival  accord- 
ing to  the  law  that  Moses  gave,  and  when,  from  the 
mountains  which  stand  round  about  Jerusalem,  he 
looked  away  to  the  hills  of  Moab,  and  thought  that 
beneath  their  shadows  his  great  prophet  was  slumber- 
ing, he  must  have  felt  more  tenderly  and  hopefully 
towards  the  heathen  soil.  The  dews  must  fall  more 
gently  there  and  the  flowers  spring  more  sweetly,  and 
God's  eye  rest  on  it  with  some  special  favor.  Thus 
within  a  system  that  was  exclusive  there  was  planted 
a  seed  that  threw  blossoms  of  charity  beyond  it,  and  as 
time  went  on  those  blossoms  came  to  fruit.  Men 
taught  by  God  arose,  who  spoke  of  the  period  when  all 
nations  should  serve  the  God  of  Israel,  and  the  whole 
earth  be  filled  with  his  glory.  Then  this  burial  of 
Moses  would  not  seem  so  strange.  The  limits  of  the 
land  of  Israel  shall  be  extended  and  embrace  this 
grave,  and  the  whole  wide  earth  become  a  land  of 
promise. 

That  time  is  now.  The  death  of  Christ  has  con- 
secrated the  soil  of  the  world.  Wherever  men  kneel 
with  a  pure  heart  they  find  God's  mercy-seat,  and 
wherever  they  are  laid  in  the  grave  they  are  in  holy 
ground.  He  has  made  it  all.  "  God's  field"  —  the 
garden  where  He  sows  his  seed,  in  Moab  as  in  Mount 
Zion  —  hallowed  by  the  sepulchre  of  the  greater  Proph- 
et and  one  Redeemer  of  the  race,  where  the  sleepers 
await  the  time  when  "  their  dew  shall  be  as  the  dew  of 
herbs,  and  the  earth  shall  cast  out  the  dead  "  (Isa. 
xxvi.  19). 


ITS   LESSONS   AND    SUGGESTIONS.  197 

VI.  There  is  one  concluding  lesson  which  has  been 
reserved  for  us  in  its  fulness,  and  which  could  be  seen 
only  partially  by  the  Jews,  — that  the  seeming  failure 
in  a  true  life  may  at  last  have  a  complete  compensation. 

Perhaps  the  life  of  no  man  in  the  Bible  has  the  same 
rounded  fulness  as  the  life  of  Moses.  It  had  so  little 
of  any  flaw  in  the  character,  and  it  accomplished 
so  much  for  the  cause  of  God  and  man.  Take  it  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  it  appears  to  contain  all  that  a 
man  could  wish  for  in  this  world.  But  there  was  one 
part  where  the  character  broke  clown,  and  one  at 
which  the  life  fell  short.  On  a  great  occasion  his 
temper  failed  him,  and  human  passion  marred  the 
tone  of  his  mission.  The  penalty  was  that  Moses  did 
not  enjoy  what  his  heart  was  set  upon  —  the  view  of 
the  close  of  all  his  labors,  and  the  entrance  of  his 
nation  into  the  home  God  had  chosen  for  them. 

It  seems  very  hard  that  so  great  a  punishment 
should  follow  a  single  offence,  and  yet  it  is  not  un- 
common in  the  life  of  a  good  man  to  see  one  false  step 
or  one  pause  in  self-control  bring  with  it  irreparable 
loss.  Moses  prayed  and  pleaded  in  deep  repentance 
that  it  might  be  reversed,  but  in  vain.  He  gained 
perfect  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  God,  and  this  was 
probably  the  best  compensation  which  this  life  could 
give.  The  sin  was  blotted  out,  and  he  knew  it, 
although  the  earthly  effect  of  it  remained.  But  if  com- 
pensation is  to  be  complete  it  must  include  the  removal 
of  the  earthly  penalty.  The  perfect  idea  of  God's  for- 
giveness is  not  merely  that  He  should  take  away  the 
inward  pain  of  sin  but  the  outward  stigma  of  it,  and 
that  he  should  make  all  the  life  what  it  would  have 


198  THE  BURIAL  OF  MOSES: 

been  without  that  sin,  or  still  richer  and  higher  for  the 
very  fall  and  rising.  The  spiritual  Physician  should 
not  only  heal  the  wound  but  obliterate  the  scar,  and, 
in  the  language  of  the  prophet,  give  "  beauty  instead 
of  burning." 

In  the  case  of  Moses  this  does  not  at  first  appear. 
"  The  Lord  buried  him,"  but  not  in  Canaan ;  and  He 
showed  him  the  land,  but  did  not  permit  him  to  tread 
it.  To  an  ancient  Jew  this  must  for  a  while  have 
seemed  strange  almost  to  harshness,  —  to  think  that 
the  meanest  in  all  their  tribes  should  enter  and  look 
on  it,  and  eat  of  its  plenty  and  drink  of  its  sweet,  and 
that  he  who  had  toiled  and  agonized  for  this  life-long 
end,  so  faithful  to  God  and  so  self-sacrificing,  should 
be  excluded !  No  Israelite  could  look  round  on  that 
noble  home,  and  the  rejoicing  family  which  dwelt  in  it, 
without  thinking  of  the  great  leader  who  stumbled  at 
the  door  and  lay  buried  by  the  threshold.  Is  Canaan 
then  all,  and  is  the  whole  life  of  Moses  shut  up  in 
wanderings  through  a  wilderness  ?  Slowly  but  irresist- 
ibly the  thought  of  another  land  must  have  risen, 
must  have  dawned  upon  the  mind's  eye,  —  a  land  of 
which  this  earthly  one  was  only  the  symbol,  and  which 
must  have  given  Moses  perfect  compensation  for  all  he 
lost  in  death.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  They  were 
attracted  and  compelled  to  it  by  all  they  knew  of  God 
and  of  his  servant.  It  was  God's  very  purpose  in 
these  events  to  educate  them  to  a  belief  in  another 
world,  and  to  give  them  some  faint  conception  of  it  —  a 
world  where  the  things  and  ties  of  earth  are  carried  up 
to  a  heavenly  temper  and  perfection.  When  a  proph- 
et came  in  after  ages  with  the  promise,  "  Thine  eyes 


ITS   LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  199 

shall  see  the  king  in  his  beauty ;  they  shall  behold  the 
land  that  is  very  far  off"  (Isa.  xxxiii.  17),  it  must 
have  been  felt  by  many  to  be  suitable  to  this  death  of 
Moses,  and  may  have  had  its  origin  in  his  last  look, 
which  took  in  "the  precious  things  of  heaven  "  as  well 
as  "the  precious  things  of  earth  and  the  fulness 
thereof." 

To  us  who  live  under  the  gospel  the  view  of  entire 
compensation  has  been  made  clear.  As  God  forgave 
the  sin  of  Moses,  we  can  see  that  long  since  He  has 
made  up  the  loss.  When  the  prospect  of  the  earthly 
Canaan  faded  from  the  eye,  another  opened  with 
brighter  skies  and  better  soil,  a  fresher  river,  and  more 
fragrant  fruits.  The  Jerusalem  for  which  those  who 
entered  the  land  had  to  fight  many  a  hard  battle  came 
to  him  new  and  golden,  like  a  bride  adorned  for  her 
husband  ;  and  for  the  tumult  of  the  congregation  of 
Israel  he  joined  the  calm  of  the  general  assembly  and 
church  of  the  first-born.  The  death  of  Moses,  which 
seemed  to  cut  off  his  life  irrevocably  from  its  grand 
object,  realized  it  beyond  his  conception,  and  sealed  it 
to  him  for  ever. 

The  thought  of  this  may  be  a  comfort  to  many  of  us 
who  feel  at  immeasurable  distance  from  Moses,  as  if 
our  nature  were  all  broken  by  flaw  and  failure,  and 
our  life  arrested  before  it  had  reached  any  true  end. 
What  unsatisfied  yearnings,  what  shattered  hopes  rise 
before  us,  as  we  look  in  and  back!  How  little  we 
have  enjoyed,  how  much  less  we  have  done !  What 
fields  of  promise  once  gleamed  before  us,  and  we  feel 
that  they  shall  never  be  ours!  We  have  marched 
through  deserts,  and  we  are  cut  off  by  an  irreversible 


200  THE  BURIAL  OF  MOSES: 

decree,  from  the  green  land  which  beckoned  us  on. 
There  are  weary  aching  hearts  about  these  things,  God 
knoweth  !  But  if  there  be  a  true  purpose  in  the  life  it 
shall  reach  a  perfect  close  one  day,  its  shortcomings 
shall  yet  be  completed,  its  errors  rectified,  its  visions 
realized.  There  are  no  ruins  nor  half-finished  struct- 
ures in  the  city  of  God.  One  of  the  most  blessed 
assurances  of  the  Christian  faith  is,  that  not  only  can 
there  be  a  compensation  for  failure  now,  in  the  lessons 
of  humility,  of  trustfulness  in  God  and  of  inward 
peace  amid  outward  loss,  but  that  there  shall  yet  be  a 
compensation  in  the  perfectness  of  deed  and  of  attain- 
ment. All  the  inward  gains  of  the  soul  in  its  strug- 
gles, its  defeats  and  disappointed  hopes  shall  be 
represented,  and  more  than  represented,  in  the  fulness 
of  power  and  possession  which  shall  be  its  heritage  in 
the  endless  life.  It  is  by  privation,  not  unfrequently 
by  disaster,  that  God  qualifies  souls  for  the  highest 
ends,  and  the  thought  of  this  may  make  the  most 
wearied  heart  among  us  bear  up  bravely,  and  "  hope 
to  the  end  for  the  grace  that  shall  be  brought  to  it  at 
the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 

What  is  needed  by  all  of  us  is  that  while  we  have 
our  natural  desire  to  see  some  result  of  life  in  this 
world  —  some  "  goodness  of  the  Lord  in  the  land  of 
the  living,"  —  as  the  great  prophet  of  Israel  had,  we 
should  not  reckon  life  lost  if  this  is  not  gained,  but 
should  rest  assured  that  He  who  can  give  pardon  of 
sin  and  peace  of  heart  now,  can  grant  all  the  crown 
and  glory  of  a  completed  life  in  a  world  to  come. 

It  is  impossible  to  close  this  subject  without  remem- 
bering the  remarkable  way  in  which  God  set  his  seal 


ITS    LESSONS    AND    SUGGESTIONS.  201 

at  last  upon  the  full  compensation  which  was  given  to 
Moses.  He  had  prayed  earnestly  that  he  might  enter 
the  earthly  Canaan,  and,  though  death  disappointed 
him,  God  in  his  own  time  and  way  heard  his  prayer. 
Ages  after  a  grave  had  been  made  for  him  in  the  valley 
in  the  land  of  Moab,  Moses  stood  within  the  limits  of 
the  Promised  Land.  When  Christ's  disciples  saw  Him 
transfigured,  "  behold,  there  talked  with  Him  two 
men,  which  were  Moses  and  Elias :  who  appeared  in 
glory,  and  spake  of  his  decease  which  He  should  ac- 
complish at  Jerusalem"  (Luke  ix.  30).  If  the  sacred 
soil  had  any  crowning  honor  it  was  when  the  feet  of 
the  Son  of  God  walked  it,  and  Moses  was  detained  at  the 
gate  that,  after  many  generations,  lie  might  enter  and 
look  on  the  land  in  its  most  glorious  prime.  And  in 
this  final  entrance  God  shows  how  long  He  can  bear  a 
prayer  in  memory,  how  He  can  seem  at  first  to  reject 
it,  and  yet  answer  it  at  last  above  all  that  a  man  can 
ask  or  think.  He  opens  up  in  the  highest  way  the 
mystery  of  Moses'  grave,  completes  his  history  by  the 
one  golden  link  it  wanted,  and  shows,  that  every  life 
which  has  a  true  regard  to  God  and  to  his  will  shall 
succeed  at  last  most  evidently  where  it  seemed  to  fail. 
And  this  is  the  lesson  from  One  greater  than  Moses. 
He  whose  decease  was  accomplished  at  Jerusalem 
ended  his  life  in  what  appeared  to  man  an  utter  fail- 
ure, with  his  followers  scattered,  his  mission  rejected, 
and  Himself  betrayed  to  a  death  of  agony  and  shame. 
Yet  it  was  then  He  uttered  the  words  "  It  is  finished  ;  " 
then  that  He  achieved  success,  and  secured  it  for  all 
who  are  willing  to  take  up  their  cross  and  follow  Him. 
Through  such  failures  Christianity  has  been  advancing 


202         THE   BURIAL   OF   MOSES:    ITS   LESSONS,   ETC. 

for  centuries,  through  martyrdoms  and  defections,  and 
great  stones  rolled  to  its  sepulchre,  and  prophecies  of 
extinction.  But  still  it  lives  and  moves  forward  to 
the  throne  its  Author  and  Lord  has  already  reached. 
The  corn  of  wheat  which  dies  and  rises  to  the  harvest  is 
its  symbol,  and  we  must  take  it  for  that  of  our  personal 
life.  If  we  wish  present  success  we  may  go  seek  it 
elsewhere,  but  if  we  desire  the  strength  and  peace 
which  make  a  man  independent  of  every  thing  but  God, 
we  must  find  these  in  God  Himself,  and  in  making 
heart  and  life  submissive  to  his  will.  In  such  a  life 
failure  is  impossible  unless  God  Himself  can  fail  and 
his  moral  universe  prove  itself  a  dream.  Should  He 
give  us  length  of  days  in  the  world,  as  He  did  to 
Moses,  and  usefulness  and  honor,  leaving  but  one 
break,  as  break  there  must  be,  at  the  close,  let  us  take 
it  thankfully  ;  but  if,  as  He  appointed  to  his  Son,  He 
send  us  defeat  and  disappointment,  and  forms  of  death, 
all  through,  let  us  take  it  hopefully.  There  is  full 
compensation  for  failure,  in  every  true  life,  and  the 
highest  where  the  struggle  and  the  loss  have  been  the 
deepest.  Most  comforting  of  all,  there  is  reversal  of 
the  consequences  of  sin  when,  in  humble  contrition 
and  faith,  the  heart  has  been  put  into  the  hand  of  the 
great  Healer.  The  shadow  -on  earth's  dial-plate  is 
turned  back  when  eternal  life  is  gained,  and  the  sun 
shall  go  down  no  more.  We  shall  be  waked  up  from 
our  grave,  like  Moses,  to  have  our  heart's  desire,  to 
look  on  the  land  and  on  Him  who  is  the  glory  in  the 
midst  of  it ;  nay,  better  still,  to  share  it  with  Him,  and 
to  know  that  "  if  we  suffer  with  Christ  it  is  that  we 
may  be  also  glorified  together." 


XII. 

foscs  &  fatten :  th  |tcl  |^temeirf  &  ife  %w. 

"And  when  Aaron  and  all  the  children  of  Israel  saw  Moses, 
behold,  the  ski?i  of  his  face  shone:  and  they  were  afraid  to  come 
nigh  Aim."  —  Exod.  xxxiv.  30. 

"And  all  that  sat  in  the  council,  looking  steadfastly  on  him 
(Stephen),  saw  his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel"  — 
Acts  vi.  15. 

\^ 

N  reading  the  account  of  Stephen's  death  and 
of  the  supernatural  light  that  flushed  over  his 
£U  face,  one  is  led  to  think  of  a  similar  scene  in 
the  life  of  Moses,  and  we  have  put  the  two  together 
here  for  the  sake  of  comparison.  To  be  servants  of 
the  same  God,  they  could  scarcely  be  more  unlike  in 
their  history,  and  they  show  in  what  divers  ways  the 
Divine  Workman  may  use  his  spiritual  instruments. 
The  life  of  Moses  is  probably  the  most  complete  of 
any  man's,  either  in  the  Old  Testament  or  the  New, — 
a  great,  noble,  growing  life  to  the  very  end,  and  most 
clearly  and  graphically  depicted  in  the  Word  of  God. 
But  not  a  single  ray  of  light  falls  upon  his  death,  and 


204  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

no  man  attends  his  funeral.  We  only  know  that  it  was 
well  cared  for  ;  "  the  Lord  buried  him." 

Of  the  life  of  Stephen  we  know  almost  as  little  as  of 
the  death  of  Moses.  But  his  last  hours  stand  before 
ns  distinct  and  bright,  and  no  nobler  funeral,  among 
men,  could  be  described  than  by  those  few  words, 
"  And  devout  men  carried  Stephen  to  his  burial,  and 
made  great  lamentation  over  him." 

So  unlike  in  other  tilings,  they  have  this  in  common, 
that  each  of  them,  on  a  great  occasion,  had  a  transfig- 
uration of  the  ordinary  life,  which  was  visible  to  all 
around,  and  these  two  events,  in  their  resemblances 
and  contrasts,  invite  our  thought.  We  venture  to  call 
this  visible  change  transfiguration,  although  that  word 
may  seem  consecrated  to  a  greater  event.  Each  of 
them  has  the  same  character  with  that  of  Christ.  It 
is  the  reflection  by  the  earthly  life  of  the  vision  of  God 
when  He  comes  very  near,  and  we  may  believe  that 
the  Lord  who  shares  the  heavenly  reality  with  his  ser- 
vants is  not  unwilling  to  divide  with  them  the  name. 

In  setting  these  transfigurations  over  against  one 
another,  we  have  no  thought  of  comparing  the  two  men. 
Stephen  fills  a  small  range  in  the  book  of  God  beside 
Moses.  There  is  no  grander  character  among  all  the 
great  men  of  the  Bible  than  the  legislator  of  Israel. 
Such  magnanimity,  such  power  of  faith  and  patience, 
such  a  work  to  do,  second  only  to  one  other,  and  such 
a  performance  of  it  \  On  the  other  hand,  the  most 
remarkable  thing  about  Stephen's  life  is  his  manner 
of  laying  it  down.  He  starts  up  suddenly  from  obscu- 
rity into  the  glory  of  a  martyr's  death,  and  is  carried 
as  visibly  to  heaven  as  if  we  saw  the  chariot  of  fire. 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      205 

We  shall  seek  to  compare  these  men,  not  in  their 
own  lives,  but  in  the  periods  to  which  they  belong  in 
God's  revelation.  It  is  the  tendency  of  all  history  to 
be  typical.  We  read  it  very  inattentively  if  we  do  not 
see  that  it  is  constantly  throwing  itself  up  into  repre- 
sentative men  and  events.  This  is  the  tendency,  above 
all,  of  Divine  history,  for  God's  providence  guides  it  in 
a  special  manner  outwardly,  and  God's  Spirit  breathes 
through  it  all,  with  a  grand  unity  of  aspiration,  to  one 
central  event.  That  there  should  be  types  in  such  a 
history  is  most  natural.  The  more  attentively  we  study 
these  two  incidents,  the  more  we  shall  see  that  they 
have  much  in  common,  as  both  men  belong  to  the  same 
divine  mould,  and  yet  much  in  contrast,  as  they  belong- 
to  ages  and  dispensations  wide  apart.  We  shall  per- 
ceive, in  this  way,  the  marvellous  progress  that  was 
made  in  unfolding  God's  truth  from  the  opening  of  the 
law  under  Moses  to  the  commencement  of  the  gospel 
era  in  the  time  of  Stephen.  How  much  deeper  and 
wider  and  nobler  the  latter  view  is,  will  appear  if  we 
look  intelligently  on  the  light  which  shines  in  the  faces 
of  these  two  men  of  God. 

I.  We  may  compare  that  view  of  Grod  ivhich  is  reflected 
from  the  face  of  each  of  them. 

They  had  both  of  them  a  Divine  vision  before  their 
eye  which  caused  the  transfiguration.  In  the  case  of 
Moses,  it  was  what  is  termed  (Exod.  xxxiii.  18,  22) 
"God's  glory,"  —  an  appearance  like  that  which  was 
seen  by  him  in  the  bush,  and  which  hovered,  as  the 
Shechinah,  over  the  mercy-seat  —  but  brighter  and 
fuller,   as   it  was  granted  in  more  special  favor.     It 


206  MOSES    AND    STEPHEN: 

was  without  any  definite  form,  for  one  fixed  aim  of  that 
dispensation  was  to  withdraw  the  minds  of  the  worship- 
pers from  the  tendency  to  shut  up  God  in  figures  made 
with  hands.  We  are  told,  indeed  (Exod.  xxxiii.  11), 
that  "  the  Lord  spake  to  Moses  face  to  face  ;  "  but  that 
this  language  is  figurative  appears  from  verse  20, 
"  Thou  canst  not  see  my  face,  for  there  shall  no  man  see 
Me  and  live."  It  was  the  glancing  skirts  of  the  Divine 
raiment  which  Moses  discerned,  not  an  open  counte- 
nance nor  intelligent  look.  It  was  a  great  and  signifi- 
cant vision,  doubtless,  raising  the  Mosaic  system  at 
once  above  all  the  religions  of  the  nations,  and  pro- 
claiming that  there  is  one  God,  who  is  light,  and  who 
yet  can  visit  man  in  love.  For  corresponding  to  this 
vision  came  the  voice  with  it  (Exod.  xxxiv.  6,  7), 
"  Keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity  and 
transgression  and  sin,  and  that  will  by  no  means  clear 
the  guilty."  There  was  much  that  was  reassuring  in 
it,  but  much  also  that  was  doubtful.  It  revealed  the 
purity  of  God,  but  the  image  had  no  distinct  features ; 
and  it  promised  mercy,  but  the  way  of  pardon  was  not 
made  plain. 

We  may  turn  now  to  the  object  presented  to  the  eye 
of  Stephen  (Acts  vii.  55)  :  "  Being  full  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  he  looked  up  steadfastly  into  heaven,  and  saw 
the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the  right 
hand  of  God."  The  glory,  which  Moses  beheld  like  a 
bright  cloud,  has  now  opened  its  bosom,  and,  issuing 
from  it,  there  is  seen  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh," 
"  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the  express 
image  of  his  person."  That  Stephen  recognized  the 
true  divinity  of  Christ  is  clear  from  verse  59.    He  died 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      207 

"  calling  upon  "  (evidently  Him  whose  name  he  takes 
into  his  lips  —  Christ  himself.)  "  and  saying,  Lord 
Jesus,  receive  my  spirit."  He  addresses  the  very 
words  to  Christ  which  Christ  himself  in  dying  ad- 
dressed to  the  Father.  And  now  the  purity  which  in 
the  day  of  Moses  had  no  distinct  features  has  formed 
itself  into  the  countenance  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  the 
mysterious  mercy  descends  from  God's  throne  by  a 
new  and  living  way,  in  the  person  of  the  God-man 
Mediator,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  The  glory  of  God 
has  outlined  and  fulfilled  itself  perfectly  in  the  pure 
and  spotless  life  of  Christ,  and  brings  us  into  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  God  with  the  words,  "  He  that 
hath  seen  Me  hath  seen  the  Father."  "  Let  this  mind 
be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  And  yet 
that  life  suffices  not  without  the  death  as  the  door  by 
which  we  are  to  reach  it.  It  is  a  Saviour  risen  from 
the  cross  and  grave  whom  Stephen  sees  ;  for  "  the  God 
of  peace  brought  again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus, 
that  great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  through  the  blood  of 
the  everlasting  covenant,"  "  who  his  own  self  bare  our 
sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we  being  dead 
to  sins  should  live  unto  righteousness ;  by  whose 
stripes  ye  were  healed." 

These,  then,  were  the  views  of  God  presented  to 
Moses  and  Stephen.  That  the  first  was  in  the  same 
line  with  the  second  cannot  be  doubted  if  we  believe  in 
the  unity  of  the  Bible  and  in  the  plan  of  God  running 
through  all  the  ages.  It  would  be  impossible  to  invert 
these  views,  for  there  was  a  fitness  in  their  order.  It 
was  necessary  that  God  should  present  Himself  first  in 
his  supremacy,  apart  from  the  lords  many  and  gods 


208  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

many  of  Gentile  worship,  with  an  infinite  majesty  and 
purity  before  which  the  soul  must  bow  down  in  deepest 
reverence.  It  was  needful  not  less  that  through  the 
cloud,  dark  with  excess  of  brightness,  softer  rays 
should  fall  to  tell  of  pardon  in  some  wondrous  way, 
else  "  the  spirit  would  have  failed  before  Him,  and  the 
souls  that  He  has  made."  When  Moses  bowed  before 
that  revelation  he  bowed  implicitly  before  Christ,  for 
He  was  enshrined  in  it,  like  the  mercy-seat  in  the  most 
holy  place,  and  it  was  his  voice,  though  Moses  knew  it 
not,  which  declared  the  name  of  God. 

But,  thereafter,  came  the  time  when  love  could  be 
fully  disclosed ;  first  the  earthquake  and  the  thunder, 
and  following  them  the  still  small  voice,  —  for  mercy 
can  only  grow  when  reverence  has  prepared  the  soil. 
In  Stephen's  vision  this  full  revelation  appears  ;  —  God 
coming  near  in  human  form  and  in  the  fulness  of  com- 
passion to  human  sin  and  suffering — taking  our  na- 
ture upon  Him  for  sympathy  and  our  sin  upon  Him 
for  salvation.  From  the  glory  that  shone  upon  the 
Mount  there  comes  forth  the  Son  of  God,  the  Father's 
likeness ;  —  for  the  voice  of  the  unseen  there  is  the 
incarnate  Word  —  and  purity  and  pardon  meet  in  har- 
mony in  the  great  God  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

II.  We  may  compare  the  effect  of  the  view  on  the  im- 
mediate ivitnesses. 

In  the  case  of  Moses,  the  effect  was  mainly,  if  not 
entirely,  an  external  brightness.  So  we  may  infer: 
"  the  skin  of  his  face  shone."  Its  beauty  had  some- 
thing of  terror  with  it.  Those  who  were  near  could 
not  bear  its  open  look,  and  required  to  have  it  veiled. 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      209 

Withal,  it  lay  more  on  the  surface  than  in  the  soul, 
and  had  more  of  outward  brilliance  than  deep  spiritual 
expression. 

We  are  not  from  this  to  suppose  that  there  was  no 
religious  fervor  in  the  heart  of  Moses,  or  that  his  char- 
acter wanted  spiritual  depth.  All  his  life  shows  the 
reverse.  But  then  he  stood  here,  not  as  a  person,  but 
as  the  representative  of  a  system,  and,  however  some 
might  rise  above  it,  the  general  character  of  that  system 
was  not  profound  spirituality.  It  wrought  more  by 
outward  reflection  than  inward  development,  or,  at 
least,  the  development  was  latent  and  slow,  and  was 
far  from  appearing  in  the  whole  nature.  In  order  to 
see  this,  we  have  but  to  think  of  what  sad  stains  and 
inconsistencies  mark  the  history  of  some  of  its  best 
members,  and  how  ready  the  great  mass  of  its  adhe- 
rents were  to  cast  aside  its  profession  in  the  hour  of 
trial.  If  their  religion  had  been  a  deep,  pervading  thing, 
possessing  all  the  soul,  and  rising  from  this  into  out- 
ward expression,  it  could  never  have  been  so  fitful.  In 
some  few,  it  was  a  strong  reality ;  but,  in  the  majority, 
their  religion  was  an  illumination  cast  on  them  from 
without,  —  a  separable  and  perishable  surface  thing. 

The  illumination  on  the  face  of  Stephen  is  described 
as  something  entirely  different.  There  may  have  been 
an  external  brightness,  for  the  soul  cannot  merely 
speak  through  the  face,  —  it  can  lighten  it  up.  But, 
if  so,  it  was  a  brightness  that  came  from  the  action  of 
the  soul  itself.  It  was  the  glow  and  grandeur  of  the 
spirit  that  rose  up  and  looked  out  through  the  counte- 
nance, until  "  they  saw  his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face 
of  an  angel  " 

14 


210  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

And  here  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  New  Testa- 
ment has  changed  even  our  idea  of  the  angelic  appear- 
ance. In  the  Old  Testament,  the  conception  is  one 
simply  of  brightness ;  but,  to  us,  it  is  one  of  beauty. 
The  radiance  comes  from  the  soul ;  and  the  beginning 
of  that  ideal,  which  painters  and  poets  have  ever  since 
sought  to  realize,  —  the  spirit-expression  shining  out 
through  the  countenance,  —  may  be  found  in  such  a 
description  as  is  here  given  of  the  first  Christian 
martyr. 

That  it  was  more  of  Divine  expression  in  the  face, 
than  of  supernatural  brightness,  is  seen  in  the  conduct 
of  the  beholders.  It  is  said,  "  the  children  of  Israel 
were  afraid  to  come  nigh  Moses,  his  face  so  shone ; " 
but  "  all  that  sat  in  the  council  looked  steadfastly  at 
Stephen."  The  appearance  did  not  out-dazzle  or  over- 
awe them.  It  merely  attracted,  and,  for  the  moment, 
arrested  them.  It  did  not  turn  them  from  their  pur- 
pose,—  their  passion  was  too  fierce;  but  it  brought 
them  to  a  pause,  imprinted  itself  upon  them,  and  —  may 
we  not  suppose  ?  —  came  back  in  waking  thoughts  and 
nightly  dreams,  and  deserted  some  of  them  never  till 
they  saw  it  again  before  the  throne  of  God. 

For  there  is  this  difference  further  between  mere 
brightness  of  face  and  the  beauty  of  the  soul  which 
beams  through  it,  that  the  one  is  seen  entire  at  first, 
and  grows  no  more.  It  tends  constantly  to  fade,  and 
must  fade  to  us,  even  though  it  remains  in  itself  the 
same.  But  the  soul's  expression  grows  evermore  as 
we  gaze  into  it ;  and  it  is  in  reminiscence,  above  all, 
that  it  rises  to  its  perfect  ideal.  It  was  this  angelic 
beauty  which  shone  in  the  face  of  Stephen,  and  it  was 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      211 

there  because  of  the  object  he  looked  upon.  «  His 
eyes  were  beautiful,"  if  we  may  adapt  to  the  case  the 
expression  of  a  poet,  «  because  you  saw  that  they  saw 
Christ."  There  was  a  look  passing  beyond  this  world 
into  another,  so  forgetful  of  all  around,  so  absorbed  in 
what  he  beheld,  so  full  of  reverence  and  love  for  the 
Saviour  who  met  his  gaze,  of  pity  and  forgiveness  for 
his  persecutors,  that  Christ  himself  can  be  read  in  that 
look,  — the  very  Christ  who  suffered  so  meekly  and 
magnanimously,  and  whose  visible  image  is  now  re- 
flected from  the  soul  of  his  martyred  servant,  as  he 
kneels  down,  and  cries,  "Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to 
their  charge  !  "  and,  having  said  this,  falls  asleep. 

Now,  these  two  forms  of  transfiguration  belong  each 
to  its  own  period,  as  does  the  view  of  God  from  which 
they  spring.  The  one  is  bright,  but  formless ;  the 
shadow  of  the  Shechinali  on  him  who  sees  it ;  and  in- 
spiring even  its  friends  with  awe,  till  they  can  look  no 
longer.  The  other  is  the  beauty  of  the  soul  that  has 
beheld  Christ,  distinct  and  expressive,  reflecting  his 
divine  purity  and  tenderness,  so  mild  that  even  those 
who  hate  it  cannot  choose  but  look  and  wonder;  and, 
when  they  would  thrust  it  from  the  world,  must  stop 
their  ears  upon  the  voice  of  Stephen,  and  summon 
blind  passion  to  do  its  work. 

III.  We  may  compare  the  crisis  of  life  in  which  each 
of  these  transfigurations  occurred. 

In  the  history  of  Moses,  it  was  in  the  fulness  of  his 
power  and  success  as  a  Divine  messenger.  Great 
through  his  whole  history,  he  had  never  been  so  great 
to  the  eye  of  man  as  at  this  moment.     He  had  con- 


212  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

fronted  the  proudest  monarch  of  the  ancient  world, 
unarmed  save  with  the  strength  of  right  and  of  confi- 
dence in  God.  He  had  scattered,  as  God's  vicegerent, 
disaster  upon  all  opposition,  and  had  led  through  the 
Red  Sea  an  oppressed  and  terror-stricken  nation,  to 
breathe  into  them  a  new  life.  He  had  been  admitted 
amid  scenes  that,  for  outward  grandeur,  still  stand 
unparalleled,  into  the  closest  intercourse  with  God, 
to  hold  converse  with  Him  as  a  friend,  and  to  receive 
from  his  lips  those  laws  which  were  to  fit  his  people 
for  being  the  depository  of  spiritual  truth  to  the  world. 
Never  was  such  honor  set  upon  mortal  man,  and,  in 
its  highest  hour,  he  bears  the  sign  of  it.  He  has 
looked  on  the  brightness  that  betokens  God's  special 
presence,  and,  all  unconscious,  lie  has  caught  its  ra- 
diance. It  is  there,  like  God's  mark  on  his  forehead, 
to  tell  where  he  has  been,  and  with  whom. 

This  hour  of  his  success  as  a  Divine  agent  is  also 
in  the  very  height  of  his  natural  and  intellectual  life. 
Many  men  gain  their  heart's  desire,  as  God's  servants, 
only  to  die  ;  and  many  seem  taken  away  both  in  "  the 
mid-time  of  their  days,"  and  the  mid-time  of  their 
work.  Before  Moses,  there  lay  stretched  out  years  of 
usefulness  and  honor,  which  took  their  character,  and 
bore  their  results,  from  this  crowning  period.  If  he 
had  many  and  sore  trials  awaiting  him,  he  had  cor- 
responding joys,  with  that  sense  of  work  achieved, 
which,  to  a  right  man,  is  both  the  fruit  of  life  and  its 
fragrance.  We  know  not  of  any  human  life  which  has 
so  resplendent  a  token  of  Divine  favor  set  in  its  centre, 
and  which  extends  back  and  forward  into  such  noble 
performance. 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      213 

The  transfiguration  of  Stephen  presents  the  most 
striking  contrast.  He  is  placed,  as  a  criminal,  before 
those  who  sat  in  Moses'  seat,  and  is  charged  with 
breaking  in  pieces  the  law  which  Moses  gave.  He  has 
done  nothing  to  shake  the  earth  with  wonder,  or  fix 
on  him  the  gaze  of  kings  and  nations.  He  professes 
only  to  be  a  humble  follower  of  One  who  died  on  a 
cross,  amid  abandonment  and  reproach ;  and,  to  him- 
self, scorn  and  hatred  are  being  measured  out  in  that 
same  name.  A  cruel  and  ignominious  death  looks 
him  full  in  the  face,  without  an  earthly  friend  to  com- 
fort him,  or  say,  "  Well  done."  There  could  not 
easily  be  a  crisis  more  unlike  the  other;  and  it  is  this 
which,  under  the  Gospel  dawn,  God  has  chosen  for 
setting  his  illuminating  seal  upon  the  face  of  his 
servant. 

"  He  heeded  not  reviling-  tones, 
Nor  sold  his  heart  to  idle  moans, 
Though  scorned  and  mocked  and  bruised  with  stones. 

"  But,  looking  upward,  full  of  grace, 
He  prayed,  and  from  a  happy  place, 
God's  glory  smote  him  on  the  face." 

But  the  transfiguration  of  Stephen,  to  a  discerning 
eye,  is  far  grander  than  that  of  Moses.  The  one  is 
impressed  with  the  temporal  and  external  magnificence 
of  the  Old  Testament,  —  the  other  full  of  the  spiritual 
glory  of  the  New,  which  begins  with  a  death  as  the  sal- 
vation of  the  world,  and  shows  us  the  shame  of  the  cross 
on  its  way  to  become  the  brightest  crown  in  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  more  honoring  to  the  power  of  God  to 
see  it  not  merely  sustaining  a  man  in  such  terrible 
extremity,  but  glorifying  him,  and  bringing  out  from 


214  MOSES   AND   STEPHEN: 

his  soul  such  a  radiant  joy  into  his  face  that  men  the 
most  hostile  are  for  the  moment  arrested. 

It  is,  indeed,  most  significant,  that  while,  in  the 
Old  Testament,  the  approving  light  of  God  falls  upon 
his  servant  in  the  midst  of  life,  in  the  New  it  descends 
in  the  presence  of  death.  It  crowns  him  conqueror 
after  a  course  of  labor  very  ardent  but  very  brief. 
This  is  in  accordance  with  that  higher  view  of  life 
which  is  now  opened  up,  which  prolongs  itself  into  the 
eternal  world,  and  makes  us  feel  that,  however  short 
and  narrow  our  sphere,  if  we  are  only  faithful  to  God 
in  that  which  is  least,  there  is  no  failure  and  no  break, 
but  full  time  to  carry  on  the  work  which  is  here  inter- 
rupted and  to  reach  all  the  results  that  now  seem  lost. 

The  contrast  in  the  crisis  of  the  illumination  becomes 
thus  as  clear  as  in  its  source  and  form.  It  brings  out 
the  new  view  which  the  Gospel  gives  of  man's  life  and 
of  the  part  which  suffering  and  death  may  have  to 
perform  in  it.  The  worshippers  of  success  can  make 
their  choice  here  between  the  triumphant  persecutors 
and  what  has  been  termed  the  "  irresistible  might  of 
weakness."  The  centuries  of  Christianity  have  pro- 
nounced their  decision,  and  Christ  long  ago  gave  his 
when  his  approving  smile  was  reflected  from  Stephen's 
face. 

Among  God's  servants,  those  who  fail  in  the  out- 
ward life  may  rise  to  the  highest  rank  in  the  spiritual, 
and  the  fore-glancing  tokens  of  it  can  be  granted  here. 
There  is  a  greater  sight  than  Moses  coming  down  from 
the  burning  mount  with  Divine  brightness  on  his 
countenance,  when  the  followers  of  Christ  mount  the 
scaffold  and  the  fiery  pile,  sublimed  by  his  grace  till 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      215 

they  appear  men  no  more,  but  angels  of  God.  And,  in 
our  own  time,  when  many  speak  of  spiritual  power  as 
dead,  God  lets  us  see  how  He  can  lighten  the  dark  valley 
with  his  presence,  and  make  his  most  beautiful  gems 
sparkle  in  the  coronet  of  death.  He  reveals  to  us  in 
our  Christian  friends  oftentimes  such  a  beauty  and 
tenderness  of  soul  in  the  hour  of  parting,  that  we  can 
see  they  were  directing  their  look  clear  into  the  heav- 
enly world,  and  we  walking  with  angels  unaware. 

IV.  We  may  compare  the  effects  on  the  surrounding 
spectators. 

The  impression  made  on  the  Israelites  by  the  view 
of  Moses  was  at  first  very  great.  They  were  filled 
with  awe  for  him  as  God's  messenger,  and  offered  will- 
ingly of  their  treasure  to  God's  cause.  A  growth  of 
obedient  homage  took  place  that  was  rarely  equalled 
in  their  history.  But  it  had  not  much  depth,  and 
soon  withered  away.  They  had  seen  many  more  won- 
ders in  Egypt,  and  had  equally  forgotten  them.  They 
went  on  to  murmur  against  God  and  against  Moses, 
in  a  way  that  would  make  their  history  utterly  unac- 
countable, if  we  did  not  see  how,  in  every  age,  men 
can  cast  into  easy  forgetfulness  the  most  striking  dem- 
onstrations of  the  Divine  justice  and  power. 

In  the  case  of  Stephen,  it  may  seem  as  if  the  impres- 
sion were  still  less.  Those  who  saw  his  face  as  it  had 
been  that  of  an  angel,  did  not  spare  his  life.  They 
stopped  their  ears  against  his  words,  rushed  on  him 
and  stoned  him  to  death.  But  we  know  how  a  look 
lives  years  after  the  face  is  hidden  in  the  grave,  and 
how  it  rises  in  calm  majesty  to  reprove  and  attract, 


216  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

after  all  the  storms  of  passion  have  passed  away.     We 
can  scarcely  doubt  it  was  so  here.     We  know  of  one 
who  was  consenting  to  his  death,  and  who  kept  the 
clothes   of  them    that    stoned   him.      We   know   too 
of  the  wonderful  transformation  that  entered  into  him, 
and  how  he  sprung  up,  as  if  by  creation,  to  preach  the 
Gospel  he  formerly  persecuted,  and  face  the  tortures 
and  deaths  he  had  once  inflicted.     Can  we  question 
that  the  look  of  Stephen  burned  its  impression  into 
the  heart  of  Paul,  and  that  from  the  martyr's  death 
the  living  preacher  rose  with  an  angel's  power  and 
zeal  ?     The  meekness  and  courage  of  the  dead  did  not 
die  with  him,  for  there  is  a  "  resurrection  of  witness- 
es "  all  through  the  history  of  the  Church,  and,  in  the 
labors  and  successes  of  Paul,  Stephen  will  be  acknowl- 
edged to  have  his  share  in  the  great  day  of  God.     It  is 
no  solitary  instance  of  the  ashes  of  the  martyr  becom- 
ing the  seed  of  the  Church,  and  how  the  shortest  life 
can  be  made  a  long  one,  and  the  earliest  death  never 
untimely,  if  they  be  dedicated  to  a  true  and  noble  end. 
Now,  here  again  these  results  are  entirely  charac- 
teristic of  the  two  systems.    The  Old  Testament  began 
with  outward  demonstrations  of  the  most  striking  kind, 
and  they  were  needful  in  their  time  and  place.     But, 
as  mere  outward  demonstrations,  their  effects  were 
transitory.    They  served  a  purpose  only  as  they  helped 
the  introduction  of  spiritual  principles,  in  some  such 
way  as  thunder  accompanies  spring  showers,  where  the 
power  lies  not  in  the  peal  or  the  tremor,  but  in  influ- 
ences more   gentle  and  less  marked.     Even  in   that 
ancient   dispensation    a   practised   ear   can    hear   the 
words  all  through  —  "  Not  by  might  nor  by  power,  but 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      217 

by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord."  And,  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, this  mode  of  working  becomes  fully  apparent. 
It  begins  with  the  death  of  Christ  as  the  grand  means 
by  which  men  are  to  be  drawn  to  God,  a  death  which 
has  an  infinite  value  as  an  atoning  sacrifice,  but  also 
an  exhaustless  power  as  an  attractive  force.  It  man- 
ifests its  real  strength  in  the  meekness  and  patience  of 
its  humblest  followers  —  in  their  calmness  in  trial  — 
their  fortitude  in  danger  — their  forgiving  spirit  to 
their  enemies  —  their  unquenched  hope  in  the  presence 
of  death.  These  are  the  moral  miracles  of  the  New 
Testament ;  as  they  abound  the  Gospel  will  progress, 
and  were  they  but  restored,  as  at  the  beginning,  we 
could  look  back  without  a  sigh  to  the  time  when  God's 
immediate  presence  was  proclaimed  by  all  the  powers 
of  nature.  Outward  demonstrations  have  their  use, 
but  they  are  only  the  band  of  clay  round  the  young 
graft  to  keep  it  safe  till  the  current  of  inner  life  has 
established  itself. 

Besides  the  effect  on  the  first  spectators,  we  have  to 
think  of  what  these  events  are  to  us  at  this  day.  The 
transfiguration  of  Moses  comes  to  us  as  a  thing  of  tes- 
timony, and  is  separated  from  us  by  a  gulf  of  more  than 
thirty  centuries.  That  of  Stephen  is  always  a  thing  of 
the  present,  filled  with  a  fresh  life  which  touches  our 
deepest  nature  whenever  we  look  on  it.  Material  scenes 
of  the  highest  grandeur  live  only  in  the  pages  of  his- 
tory ;  they  need  to  appeal  to  us  by  an  outward  verifi- 
cation, and  they  become  dimmer  as  distance  intervenes. 
But  spiritual  greatness  is  everlastingly  new,  and  we 
can  be  as  closely  in  its  presence  as  when  it  first  ap- 
peared in  the  world.     Nay,  we  may  come  closer  to  it 


218  MOSES   AND    STEPHEN: 

than  the  first  spectators.  As  the  prejudices  of  their 
position  fall  away,  and  as  time  tests  it  and  brings  out 
its  reality,  we  see  and  feel  more  of  its  ever-during 
power.  It  is  like  a  lofty  mountain,  which  needs  the 
interval  of  distance  to  let  us  measure  its  height.  Of 
this  kind  are  all  the  moral  evidences  of  the  truth  of 
the  Gospel,  all  the  signs  of  the  higher  life  which  then 
entered  the  world,  which  never  become  old  with  years, 
but  renew  themselves  in  us  as  we  open  our  souls  to 
them.  To  this  the  form  of  the  dying  Stephen  belongs  ; 
not  the  angelic  face  alone,  but  the  angelic  spirit  of 
which  it  was  the  index,  a  thing  which  never  appeared 
in  the  world  till  Christ  was  heard  of,  and  which  true 
Christianity  alone  can  reproduce.  The  canvas  of  that 
picture  never  decays,  the  dust  of  time  does  not  gather 
on  the  features.  It  is  no  picture,  for  we  may  come  and 
feel  the  life  in  it  while  we  look,  and  share  it  as  we  gaze 
on  the  great  object  of  his  view.  So  true  is  it  that  we 
are  come  even  now  "  to  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, and  to  Jesus,  the  mediator  of  the  New  Covenant." 

V.  We  may  compare  the  permanence  of  the  transfigu- 
rations in  the  subjects  of  them. 

There  are  some  who  think  that  the  brightness  in  the 
face  of  Moses  lasted  till  he  died,  but  for  this  supposi- 
tion there  is  not  the  slightest  ground.  It  faded  away 
into  the  light  of  ordinary  life  as  he  receded  from  the 
great  vision,  and  long  ere  his  countenance  was  dark- 
ened in  death  it  had  become  as  the  face  of  other  men. 
It  partook  in  this  of  the  transitory  character  of  the  dis- 
pensation to  which  he  belonged,  and  had  its  brightest 
light  turned  to  our  world. 


THE  OLD  TESTAMENT  AND  THE  NEW.      219 

Iii  Stephen  it  was  no  passing  glimmer  of  a  setting 
sun,  but  that  lustre  in  the  morning  clouds  which  shows 
him  before  he  is  above  the  horizon,  and  which  is  lost 
only  in  perfect  day.  Moses  was  descending  the  hill  of 
God  with  a  brightness  which  was  continually  dying : 
Stephen  was  ascending  the  higher  mount  with  a  glory 
growing  to  all  eternity.  The  death  of  Stephen  is  the 
New  Testament  translation,  and  he  is  to  be  set  as  the 
third  with  Enoch  and  Elijah,  only  higher,  inasmuch  as 
each  manifestation  of  God  rises  while  time  moves  on. 
It  is  a  greater  thing  to  overcome  death  than  to  be 
carried  past  it,  and  here  it  is  no  fire-chariot  which  lifts 
to  heaven,  but  the  outstretched  hand  of  Christ,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  word,  "  I  will  come  and  receive  you 
unto  Myself,  that  where  I  am  there  ye  may  be  also." 

In  the  death  of  Stephen  it  is  intended  that  we  should 
see  how  thin  the  veil  is  between  the  two  worlds,  —  how 
the  Lord  stands  on  the  very  confine,  sending  across 
his  look  and  arm  and  voice,  so  that  ere  his  servant  left 
the  earth  he  saw  his  heavenly  Master,  heard  his  words, 
and  returned  his  smile. 

Nor,  we  may  well  believe,  is  that  vision  of  the  Saviour 
in  the  dying  hour  so  unusual.  When  Christ  and 
heaven  are  disclosed  in  the  Bible,  it  is  only  the  curtain 
cast  back  from  what  is  all  around  us  at  this  present 
time,  and  even  yet,  when  a  saint  passes  through,  the 
folds  may  be  relaxed  a  little,  and  some  rays  permitted 
to  shine  forth  that  we  may  guess  at  the  brightness  be- 
yond. The  calmness  and  tender  sweetness  of  the 
dying  hour,  the  faith  and  patience  and  hope,  are  most 
evident  tokens  of  the  presence  of  Christ's  Spirit ;  but 
may  not  the  smile  of  more  than  human  joy,  the  glow 


220  MOSES   AND   STEPHEN. 

which  sometimes  suffuses  the  countenance  till  it  is  seen 
like  the  face  of  an  angel,  be  the  reflection  of  the  look 
of  Christ  Himself,  and  the  first  faint  ripple  of  the  waves 
of  unutterable  glory  that  are  beginning  to  touch  the 
feet  and  sparkle  in  the  eyes  of  the  awakening  soul  ? 
Most  sure,  to  those  who  have  witnessed  it,  is  the  con- 
viction that  there  must  be  light  beyond,  that  this  gleam 
is  not  from  death's  darkness  but  God's  own  day,  and 
may  well  be  encouragement  to  us  "  to  hope  in  his  word, 
and  to  wait  for  the  Lord  more  than  they  that  watch 
for  the  morning ;  yea,  more  than  they  that  watch  for 
the  mornine*." 


XIII. 


JfaitVs   Ippnmctr  to  §)\mi 


(address  before  communion). 

11  For  she  said  tuithift  herself,  If  I  may  but  touch  his  garment,  1 
shall  be  whole."  —  Matt.  ix.  21. 


NE  always  loves  to  think  of  the  surrounding 
circumstances  of  this  miracle  —  Christ  called 
to  the  ruler's  house  filled  with  mourning  and 
death,  with  his  heart  absorbed  in  the  great  work  which 
lay  before  Him,  the  first  of  the  glancing  proofs  that  He 
is  to  give  that  He  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life. 
The  thronging  press  of  the  people  is  around  Him, 
curious  and  expectant.  But  nothing  far  off  or  near, 
future  or  present,  can  shut  out  from  Him  the  appeal 
of  misery.  He  is,  always  and  everywhere,  alive  to 
a  suppliant's  touch.  His  very  garment,  to  its  hem,  is 
instinct  with  his  own  spirit  and  sensitive  to  the  most 
trembling  hand. 

It  is  not  less  so  now  far  up  in  heaven.  The  place 
which  increases  the  sympathy  of  all  hearts  that  enter 
there,  has   not  diminished  his.     His  garment,  wide- 


222  faith's  approach  to  christ. 

spread  and  dropping  low,  is  near  our  hand,  and  He 
feels  a  sinner's  and  a  sufferer's  touch  upon  his  throne, 
with  circle  on  circle  of  glory  gathering  round  Him, 
and  saints  and  angels  thronging  in.  He  came  down 
that,  in  his  nearness  to  our  misery,  we  might  learn  to 
know  his  heart,  and  He  rose  that  we  might  be  assured 
of  his  power  to  help  and  heal.  So  let  us  seek  to  read 
this  incident  and  consider  what  it  teaches. 

Faith  comes  with  a  deep  despair  of  all  other 
help  but  Christ's. 

This  woman  had  tried  many  means  for  many  years. 
All  that  she  possessed  she  had  given,  all  that  man  will 
do  for  health  she  had  done.  She  is  not  the  better,  but 
rather  the  worse.  Hope  had  departed,  which  the  poor 
sufferer  surrenders  last  of  all,  and  she  is  left  to  drag 
about  a  weary  burden,  and  to  feel  that  death  only  can 
unbind  it. 

But  all  this  weakening  of  nature's  hopes  is  that  faith 
may  rise  to  a  hope  above  nature,  —  to  its  Lord  and 
God.  Had  these  past  years  of  disappointment  not 
brought  her  to  the  verge  of  despair,  the  great  Physician 
would  have  been  unsought. 

Thus  God  will  let  the  sinner  or  the  sufferer  wander 
on  and  try  all  other  ways  of  cure,  not  to  tantalize  him 
with  shadows,  but  to  lead  him  through  them  to  the 
great  reality.  He  lets  the  prodigal  go  far  away  and 
deep  down  among  the  swine  and  the  husks,  and  make 
experience  of  all  man's  friendships,  such  as  they  are  in 
his  poor  circle,  and  find  them  all  hollow  and  heartless, 
that  his  Father's  house  and  face  may  rise  glowing 
before  him,  in  the  depth  of  his  darkness,  and  he  be 


faith's  APPROACH  TO   CHRIST.  223 

driven  to  know  them  as  never  before.  So  he  has  suf- 
fered thee  perhaps  to  wander  and  exhaust  all  thy 
strength  and  hope,  sometimes  on  the  world's  pleas- 
ures, sometimes  its  moralities,  sometimes  on  its  busi- 
ness, sometimes  its  philosophy,  and  still  to  find  the 
burden  and  the  sore  and  the  void,  till,  wearied  in  the 
greatness  of  thy  way,  toil-worn  and  travel-sick,  thon 
sayest,  "  There  is  no  hope,"  that  out  of  thy  despair  this 
hope  may  rise  like  the  morning-star  out  of  black 
night.  All  other  physicians  have  been  tried,  and  thou 
liest  in  thy  blood,  that  this  question  may  be  stirred,  — 
"  Is  there  not  balm  in  Gilead,  is  there  not  a  physician 
there  ? "  Bless  God  for  all  failures  if  this  vision  at 
last  rises,  — for  despair  itself,  if  such  a  hope  is  its 
child,  —  for  be  sure  that  in  God's  world  there  are 
never  shadows  but  there  is  a  reality  from  which  they 
fall,  and  never  failures  in  the  soul's  highest  longings, 
but  that  they  are  steps  to  God  if  the  soul  struggles  on. 
Let  thy  sin  and  sickness  and  sore  lead  to  this  name, 
"  I  am  the  Lord  that  healeth  thee." 

Faith  has  a  Divine  power  to  discover  Christ. 

We  cannot  tell  what  brought  the  woman  to  Him. 
It  was  in  the  beginning  of  his  work,  and  we  hear  of 
no  cure  like  hers  before,  none  of  any  disease  so  deep 
and  long  seated.  Her  ignorance  and  weakness,  too, 
were  great,  and  profound  reasoning  was  not  in  her 
sphere  of  things.  There  was  something  in  his  look, 
his  words,  his  whole  personality,  that  drew  her  to 
Him,  she  could  not  tell  why.  But  she  goes.  "  If  I 
may  but  touch,  I  shall  be  whole," -j"  I  feel,  it,  I 
know  it." 


224  faith's  approach  to  christ. 

And  faith  often  goes  so  to  Christ,  straight  to  the 
mark  like  a  driven  arrow,  —  with  grounds  for  going 
that  it  cannot  tell  well  to  others,  or  tell  even  to  itself. 
There  is  an  intuition  that  has  reasons  in  its  heart,  and 
that  will  be  able  to  bring  them  out  full  and  clear  one 
day  —  a  groping  half-blind,  which  will  yet  find  en- 
lightened eyes,  —  a  sense  of  misery,  of  sin,  urged  to 
Him  by  a  divine  necessity :  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we 
go  ?  thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

Can  you  tell  why  the  needle  trembles  to  the  pole  ? 
the  buds  feel  their  way  to  the  spring  ?  the  flowers  to 
sunlight  ?  They  are  made  for  it,  and  sonls  are  so 
made  for  Christ.  He  created  them,  loved  them,  died 
for  them,  and,  when  He  comes  near,  they  feel  his 
presence  and  cannot  live  without  Him.  Would  you 
know,  deeper  down,  the  ground  of  this  ?  It  is  his 
whisper  in  the  heart  which  has  reached  them :  "  My 
sheep  hear  my  voice."  —  "Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary. 
She  turned  herself  and  saith  unto  him,  Rabboni,  which 
is  to  say,  Master."  Our  appeal  is  only  a  response. 
The  cure  began  with  this  woman  before  she  touched. 
His  arm  guided  hers.  His  strength  sustained  her 
weakness.  His  lips  whisper  to  the  soul,  "  Let  us  arise 
and  go  unto  our  Father ; "  and  when  we  awake  from 
our  earthly  sleep  and  see  all  things  clear,  we  shall 
perceive  that  He  was  with  us  in  all  our  best  purposes, 
in  our  choosing  and  chosen  hours  ;  "  God  was  in  this 
place,  and  I  knew  it  not."  —  "  Did  not  our  heart  burn 
within  us,  while  he  talked  with  us  by  the  way  ?  "  It 
gives  the  assurance  of  final  success  in  all  who  long  for 
the  healing  of  the  soul,  for  where  that  soul  feels  its 
need  and  seeks  a  Christ,  it  is  Christ  who  is  there,  lead- 
ing it  to  Himself. 


faith's   APPROACH  TO   CHRIST.  225 

Faith  comes  with  an  implicit  trust  in  Christ. 

There  were  many  things  wanting  and  wrong  in  this 
woman's  knowledge,  but  her  faith  was  very  full  and 
absolute.  Up  to  the  measure  of  what  she  needed, 
her  confidence  was  entire.  Her  faith  is  implicit  in  a 
perfect  cure :  "  I  shall  be,  not  better,  but  whole."  It 
is  implicit  in  his  ability :  "  If  I  may  but  touch  his 
garment."  —  "  The  least  contact  with  Him  gives  me  all 
I  need."  How  great  the  physician  who  could  pour  so 
complete  a  remedy  through  communication  so  slight ! 

Such  implicit  faith  be  ours !  that  up  to  the  felt 
measure  of  our  necessity  we  should  trust  Christ  with 
it  all,  and,  when  we  discover  more,  trust  Him  with  the 
increase,  that,  with  the  growing  sense  of  our  sickness, 
we  should  believe  there  is  power  in  Him  to  heal  guilt 
and  sorrow,  and  disappointment  and  doubt,  and  death 
itself — that  we  shall  yet  be  made  whole.  This  re- 
quires faith,  and  seems  to  require  it  more  the  longer 
that  we  live.  Yet  He  will  bestow^ this  also.  The  faith 
is  the  promised  gift  of  Him  from  whom  it  looks  for  the 
cure.     "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief." 

And  that  our  faith  should  be  implicit  in  the  ease 
with  which  He  can  accomplish  it !  A  touch,  a  word, 
a  thought  from  Him  can  do  it.  "  Lord,  if  thou  wilt, 
thou  canst  make  me  clean."  —  "  Speak  the  word  only, 
and  thy  servant  shall  be  made  whole."  For  cures 
come  from  Christ  as  water  from  a  fountain,  light  from 
the  sun,  life  from  the  great  God.  They  are  the  natural 
emanations  that  radiate  from  Him,  hindered  only  by 
the  obstructions  which  we  interpose.  If  we  could  but 
realize  this,  in  its  full  certainty,  that  the  God  who 
made  us  wills  not  our  death,  and  that  the  Son  of  God 

15 


226  faith's  approach  to  christ. 

is  in  our  world  to  be  the  assurance  and  channel  of 
this  blessed  will,  delighting  to  do  it,  with  what  confi- 
dence might  we  draw  near  and  receive  out  of  his  ful- 
ness grace  for  grace !  If  all  hope  for  the  soul  were 
dead  elsewhere,  only  that  it  might  live  in  Him  as  all 
our  salvation  —  "  Other  refuge  have  I  none,  hangs  my 
helpless  soul  on  thee"  —  then  would  come  the  experi- 
ence of  those  words,  "  My  God  shall  supply  all  your 
need  according  to  his  riches  in  glory  by  Christ  Jesus." 

Faith  seeks,  for  its  comfort,  close  contact  with 
Christ. 

"  If  I  may  but  touch.'"  There  is  a  trait  of  nature 
in  this  which  gives  us  a  sense  of  kinship.  The  heart 
seeks  to  press  close  to  the  Healer,  as  a  sick  child  to  its 
mother's  breast.  It  is  the  instinct  of  suffering  which 
Christ  himself  has  sanctioned.  He  took  by  the  hand 
her  who  was  sick  of  the  fever  ;  He  touched  the  blind 
man's  eyes,  and  put  his  fingers  in  the  deaf  man's  ears. 
The  sufferer  and  the  Saviour  must  be  felt  to  be  in  con- 
tact, as  necessary  to  our  power  to  lay  hold,  if  not  to 
his  ability  to  help. 

It  is  in  accordance  with  this  that  God  weaves  his 
attributes,  the  tokens  of  his  presence,  into  all  the 
works  of  his  hands.  He  spreads  his  vesture  abroad 
in  creation,  and  brings  it  close  to  our  touch,  instinct 
with  his  being,  that  we  may  feel  and  grasp  the  God  in 
whom  we  live  and  move,  and  know  him  to  be,  not  a 
mere  abstraction,  but  a  God  near  and  ever  present. 
The  incorporation  of  God  in  external  nature  is  a  step 
to  his  incarnation  in  human  nature.  It  leads  to  that 
mysteriously  intimate  approach  to  us.  when  as  "  the 


faith's  APPROACH  TO  CHRIST.  227 

children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,"  the  eternal 
Son  also  "  took  part  of  the  same."  He  put  on  the 
garment  of  humanity,  and  drew  near  in  person,  that 
we  might  clasp  Him  as  a  kinsman  in  our  arms,  and 
feel  the  infinite  One  to  be  our  own.  Our  fallen  nature 
made  it  needful  that  He  should  come  closer  still.  He 
became  the  partaker  of  suffering  and  shame  that  we 
might  touch  Him  in  the  sympathy  of  our  hearts,  and 
feel  that,  in  like  manner,  He  can  touch  us  and  be 
afflicted  in  all  our  afflictions.  Nay  more,  He  became 
sin  for  us,  and  bore  it  in  our  stead,  that  his  healing 
touch  might  reach  our  conscience,  and  that  we  may 
have  the  assurance  that  He  can  be  present  to  help  in 
the  deepest  guilt  and  darkness  of  the  soul. 

The  history  of  all  God's  dealings  with  man  is  the 
record  of  an  approach  nearer  still,  and  nearer,  until,  in 
the  incarnate  Son,  He  shares  all  our  sorrows,  and 
carries  our  sins,  till  faith  puts  its  fingers  into  the  print 
of  the  nails,  its  hand  into  the  wounded  side,  and  con- 
strains us  to  cry,  "  My  Lord,  and  my  God." 

So  does  He  approach  man,  for  man's  heart  thus 
yearns  to  draw  near  to  Him  —  to  a  living  God,  to  a 
personal  Saviour.  We  need  this.  We  can  believe 
a  truth,  but  we  can  trust  only  a  person,  —  we  can 
admire  a  truth,  we  can  love  only  a  person,  —  we  can 
meditate  on  a  truth,  we  can  commune  only  with  a  per- 
son, and  faith  stretches  out  a  wistful  hand  to  touch  his 
garment  that  it  may  come  at  last  to  embrace  Himself. 

Faith,  with  all  its  imperfections,  is  accepted  by 
Christ. 

How  imperfect  this  woman's  faith  was  you  can  see. 


228  faith's  approach  to  Christ. 

She  thought  she  could  be  cured,  and  He  not  know. 
She  imagined  He  healed  by  a  sort  of  nature,  not  by  a 
conscious  act  of  will.  In  many,  faith  may  be  weak 
and  ignorant,  but  touching  Christ  it  is  forgiven  much. 
Like  Samson,  it  is  so  full  .of  faults  and  failure  in  itself, 
but  when  it  turns  to  God,  a  divine  power  comes  to  it 
in  its  hour  of  need  ;  and  is  not  this  the  lesson  of  that 
strange  Old  Testament  history  ? 

What  an  encouragement  to  come  to  Christ  truly, 
though  it  may  be  feebly,  though  conscious  of  many 
defects  in  our  knowledge,  creeping  where  we  cannot 
walk,  touching  where  we  cannot  lay  hold  !  "  He  will 
not  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking 
flax."  And  this  gives  us  the  hope  that  if  a  man  really 
trusts  God  for  one  thing,  he  will  be  led  on  to  more, 
from  body  to  soul,  from  time  to  eternity.  If  we  read 
rightly  the  11th  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
we  shall  see  that  the  Apostle  teaches  this.  Those  be- 
lievers of  the  ancient  Church  cast  themselves  on  God 
in  some  one  crisis  of  their  life,  and  this  established 
the  connection  for  ever.  And  if  a  man  really  and 
truly  accepts  of  Christ,  in  one  part  of  his  saving  char- 
acter, he  will  be  led  on,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  accept 
him  in  all.  For  Christ  is  one,  and  instinct  in  every 
part  of  his  nature  with  the  life  that  heals.  Let  us 
thank  God  if  we  feel  in  ourselves,  or  see  in  any  man, 
a  thorough  faith  in  some  one  side  of  the  helping  and 
healing  power  of  the  Son  of  God.  It  is  no  reason  why 
we  should  rest  in  what  is  partial,  but  abundant  reason 
why  we  should  be  encouraged  to  maintain  our  hold 
If  we  grasp  the  garment-hem  we  shall  bring  Him  to 
turn  the  face,  and  to  say,  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  thy 
faith  hath  made  thee  whole." 


faith's  APPROACH  TO   CHRIST.  229 

Faith  feels  a  change  from  the  touch  of  Christ. 

"  And  she  felt  in  her  body  that  she  was  healed " 
(Mark  v.  29).  There  was  an  inward  sense,  which 
conld  not  be  mistaken,  of  return  to  wholeness  —  the 
stanching  of  a  wound  through  which  life,  for  long  years, 
had  been  slowly  ebbing,  and  the  rising  of  a  tide  of  new 
existence  which  made  her  feel  she  could  yet  be,  and  do 
something,  in  God's  world.  It  is  almost  worth  years 
of  weary  wasting  to  have  one  hour  of  the  blessed  con- 
sciousness. The  dew  of  youth  comes  back,  the  world 
seems  to  put  on  sunshine  and  spring-time  in  sympathy, 
as  if  God  were  making  it  all  anew,  and  the  man,  who 
was  lying  like  a  crushed  and  helpless  worm,  rejoices 
in  the  thought  of  the  hard  duties  and  heavy  burdens 
which  come  to  try  his  fresh-created  strength. 

When  faith,  under  a  sense  of  its  need,  touches 
Christ,  the  virtue  that  comes  from  Him  gives  some 
such  feeling  to  the  soul.  When  that  great  transfer- 
ence of  sin  and  spiritual  sickness  is  made  to  the 
Saviour  the  soul  is  safe,  entirely  and  eternally  safe, 
through  the  grace  of  Him  who  will  keep  that  soul 
which  we  commit  to  his  trust,  and  who  will  never 
suffer  any  one  to  pluck  it  out  of  his  hand.  There  is  a 
crisis  of  this  kind  in  every  spiritual  history,  if  the  new 
life  is  to  begin,  —  some  turning-point  in  the  disease 
where  it  sets  in  to  hope  and  health !  We  do  not  say 
that,  in  the  spiritual  frame,  there  is  always  the  same 
full  and  immediate  sense  of  it.  In  most  cases  not,  for 
the  soul's  recovery  is  very  gradual  and  fitful,  even 
though  it  is  sure,  and,  in  some  cases,  the  struggle  of 
doubt  is  part  of  the  process  through  which  it  gains  at 
last  its  highest  power.     But  this  will  prevail  in  the 


230  faith's  approach  to  christ. 

midst  of  all,  —  a  feeling  of  change,  —  of  something 
new  and  hopeful,  when  Christ  is  looked  to  and  leaned 
upon  —  a  sense  of  contact  with  a  power  out  of,  and 
above,  the  world,  which  can  give  life  and  courage  for 
the  soul's  sorest  battles,  and  which  whispers  to  it,  often 
with  sure  conviction,  that  it  shall  prevail. 

There  are  men  in  whose  presence  you  feel  strength 
and  comfort,  whose  look  and  words  are  like  a  reinforce- 
ment to  turn  the  battle  from  the  gate.  Have  you  this 
feeling,  above  all,  when  your  heart  rises  to  the  thought 
of  that  august  and  godlike  Presence,  when  it  seeks 
that  "  blessed  and  gracious  face  ?  "  Then  take  cour- 
age. The  pressing  throng  of  doubts  and  fears,  of 
worldly  cares  and  temptations,  may  thrust  aside,  at 
times,  the  hand  that  touches,  but  do  not  turn  away. 
"In  returning  and  rest  shall  ye  be  saved!"  The 
thrill  of  life  which  comes  from  Him  tells  of  far  more 
yet  to  be  gained,  —  "  He  is  come  that  we  might  have 
life,  and  that  we  might  have  it  more  abundantly."  He 
will  bring  not  only  into  contact  with  his  garment  but 
with  his  heart,  and  then  the  peace  that  fills  it,  and  the 
joy  that  overflows  it,  shall  be  the  portion  of  those  who 
lay  hold  of  Him.  They  shall  know  "  the  love  of  Christ 
which  passeth  knowledge,  that  they  may  be  filled  with 
all  the  fulness  of  God  !  " 

For  this  end  Christ  has  entered  the  world,  that  He 
may  make  man  the  heir  of  God  and  God  the  heritage 
of  man.  He  stands  before  us  more  clearly  now,  that 
He  may  assure  us  of  it.  He  has  borne  the  penalty  of 
sin,  has  passed  through  death  in  our  nature,  and  has 
risen  above  it,  bearing  those  marks  of  his  suffering 
which  prove  his  continued  share  in  our  humanity  and 


faith's   APPROACH  TO   CHRIST.  231 

his  everlasting  sympathy  with  us.  "  Behold  my  hands 
and  my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself:  handle  me  and  see." 
And  He  shows  us  his  hands  and  his  feet. 

At  a  communion-table  it  would  seem  as  if  the 
Saviour  were  bringing  his  garment-hem  nearer  to  our 
hand,  that  touch  may  aid  faith,  and  his  person  stand 
before  us  through  visible  memorials.  Our  eyes  are 
made  to  see,  our  hands  to  handle,  and  our  lips  to  taste, 
the  Word  of  life,  that  He,  whose  we  are,  may  enter 
our  soul  by  every  gate-way,  and  take  our  nature  into 
full  possession. 

Christ  is  now,  as  He  was  then,  passing  through  the 
midst  of  men,  if  they  would  but  see  Him.  Still,  they 
throng  and  press  and  draw  nothing  from  Him,  because 
they  bring  no  eye  to  discern,  and  do  not  feel  that  need 
which  opens  the  eyesight.  We  can  take  from  Him 
only  what  we  perceive  in  Him,  and  must  urge  the 
prayer  that  "  God  would  reveal  his  Son  in  us  !  " 

For  this,  too,  He  has  provided.  Though  the  Head 
be  far  away,  by  his  Spirit  He  comes  near.  "  He  shall 
take  of  mine  and  show  it  unto  you."  It  is  the  holy  oil, 
poured  on  the  head,  which  descends  even  to  the  skirts 
of  his  garments,  to  his  border's  utmost  hem,  to  every 
symbol  and  to  every  suppliant,  to  put  healing  power 
into  the  fainting  heart,  and  to  "  fill  the  house  with  the 
odor  of  the  ointment." 

It  is  our  hope  and  joy  to  think,  as  we  touch  Him 
here,  with  the  hands  of  dying  men,  that  He  is  still,  as 
once  before,  passing  on  through  the  world  to  perform 
his  greatest  work —  to  raise  the  dead.  Many  a  home 
like  that  of  Jairus  looks  for  his  appearing.  Himself 
the  Risen  One,  He  is  advancing  to  awake  his  friends 


232  faith's  approach  to  christ. 

who  have  fallen  asleep,  and  to  comfort  those  who  mourn 
over  them,  and  who  wait  for  his  coming.  He  spreads 
his  garment,  meanwhile,  as  He  moves,  to  the  touch  of 
misery  and  sin,  and  if  He  lingers  in  his  progress  to 
the  homes  of  the  dead,  it  is  but  to  gather  in  his  train 
the  fuller  fruits  of  his  redeeming  toil.  His  mercy  and 
our  need  cause  the  seeming  delay.  His  work  on  the 
way  must  be  finished  ere  the  close  can  come  —  that 
close  so  longed  for  by  all  fainting  spirits  and  bereaved 
hearts.  Sinner,  sufferer,  while  thou  art  in  the  way 
with  Him,  touch  Him  and  follow.  Ere  long  He  will 
enter  that  highest  house,  and  thou  possess  the  privilege 
of  the  best-beloved,  to  enter  the  innermost  chamber 
with  Him,  where  sorrow  shall  be  turned  into  joy  and 
death  into  life,  where  faith  which  touches  the  hem  shall 
rise  to  vision  that  beholds  the  face,  and  friends  who 
part  and  weep  at  nightfall  shall  meet  at  day-dawn,  in 
a  world  where  the  voice  of  crying  shall  not  be  heard 
any  more,  nor  the  shadow  of  death  fall  upon  the  heart 
for  ever. 


XIV 

ilmst  not  jjtcasuuj  fjimsdjf. 

CHRISTIAN   AND    SOCIAL   TOLERANCE. 

"  Let  every  one  of  us  please  his  neighbor  for  his  good  to  edifica- 
tion. For  eve?i  Christ  pleased  not  himself;  bid,  as  it  is  ivritte?ii 
The  reproaches  of  them  that  reproached  thee  fell  on  Me."  — 
Romans  xv.  2,  3. 

HE  occasion  of  this  very  practical  advice  is  to 
be  found  in  the  previous  chapter.  Some  of 
the  Roman  Christians  considered  the  meat 
that  had  been  offered  to  idols  unfit  for  Christian  use, 
while  others  of  them  could  partake  of  it  without 
scruple.  But,  not  contented  with  enjoying  their  own 
liberty,  they  set  themselves  to  indulge  in  mutual  re- 
crimination. The  one  class  considered  the  other  un- 
conscientious, while  these  retorted  on  them  as  weak- 
minded. 

It  is  a  quarrel  that,  in  some  shape,  has  turned  up 
ever  since.  The  apostle  Paul  belongs  unmistakably 
to  the  one  side,  that  which  saw  no  conscience  in  the 
matter,  but  he  is  not  devoured  by  a  zeal  to  bring  all 
to  his  own  mind.     He  sees  that  there  are  things  infi- 


234  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING   HIMSELF. 

nitely  more  important  than  uniformity.  Charity  is 
greater,  and  liberty.  Those  who  cannot  eat  must  be- 
lieve in  the  good  faith  of  those  who  can,  and  they  who 
have  no  scruples  must  refrain  from  taunting  those  who 
have.  Then  from  the  whole  controversy  he  rises  to 
this  great  principle,  which  lifts  the  thing  out  of  the 
local  and  temporary,  and  gives  it  a  world-wide  and  per- 
manent interest.  In  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow- 
Christians  or  fellow-men,  we  are  not  to  make  our 
own  pleasure,  but  the  pleasure  of  our  neighbor,  our 
chief  end.  This  is  the  example  set  by  Christ,  our  great 
Master :  "  He  pleased  not  himself."  The  violation  of 
this  principle  has  produced  more  unhappiness  and  sin 
than  many  other  things  that  seem  at  first  sight  more 
deadly,  has  broken  up  the  communion  of  the  Church, 
and  the  comfort  of  the  social  and  family  circle,  and  de- 
serves, therefore,  special  consideration.  The  first  thing- 
is  to  state  the  rule  of  forbearance  as  laid  down  by  the 
apostle ;  next,  to  show  that  it  is  illustrated  by  Christ's 
example ;  and  then  to  present  some  of  the  advantages 
that  would  result  from  acting  on  it. 

I.  We  shall  state  the  rule  of  forbearance  as  laid  down 
by  the  apostle. 

We  are  guided  in  this  by  the  circumstances  that  led 
to  the  statement  of  this  principle.  There  were  two 
classes  in  the  Roman  Church  who  refused  liberty  to 
others.  There  were  the  men  of  despotic  conscience  and 
the  men  of  despotic  intellect ;  and,  that  we  may  cover 
the  whole  ground  of  character,  we  may  add  to  them  a 
third  class  as  needing  this  lesson,  —  the  men  of  des- 
potic will.     To  one  or  other  of  these  classes  belongs 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL   TOLERANCE.  235 

almost  every  case  of  undue  interference  with  Christian 
and  social  liberty. 

There  are  the  men  in  whom  conscience  is  strongly 
implanted  without  a  corresponding  breadth  of  view, 
who  place  duty  and  sin  in  things  indifferent,  and  make 
the  way  of  God's  commandments,  which  is  very  broad, 
exceedingly  narrow  through  restrictions  that  are  not 
his.  One  evil  result  of  this  is,  that,  by  magnifying 
these,  by  "  taking  tithe  of  mint  and  anise  and  cumin," 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  come  to  be  neglected. 
Men  cannot  habitually  exaggerate  the  little,  without 
losing  sight  of  the  great.  But  the  danger  to  which  the 
apostle  here  adverts  is  not  to  truth  but  freedom.  Such 
men  can  seldom  be  contented  with  prescribing  to  them- 
selves. They  dictate  to  others,  make  the  rule  of  their 
conscience  the  universal  rule,  and  hold  that  there  is 
neither  sin  nor  duty  to  any  man  but  what  they  see  to 
be  such. 

There  is  another  class,  who  may  be  called  men  of 
despotic  intellect.  They  have  discernment  enough  to 
see  that  there  is  really  nothing  in  many  of  these  ques- 
tions so  much  disputed,  but  they  have  a  want  of  ten- 
derness to  feel  for  those  who  have  not  reached  their 
level.  They  have  arrived  at  the  breadth  that  knowl- 
edge gives,  but  not  at  the  greater  breadth  that  comes 
from  wisdom  and  charity.  There  are  few  things  more 
intolerant  than  superior  intellect,  or,  still  more,  the 
fancy  of  superior  intellect,  when  it  is  dissevered  from 
love  and  humility.  There  is  an  impatience  of  the 
slowness  of  what  they  consider  inferior  natures,  an 
undisguised  contempt  for  scruples,  and  a  reckless 
pleasure  in  thrusting  their  breadth  offensively  forward 


236  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

where  it  is  not  attacked,  proving  themselves  to  be  as 
narrow  in  another  way  as  those  whom  they  wish  to 
liberalize. 

We  have  to  add  to  these  a  third  class,  the  men  of 
despotic  will.  The  despotic  will  may  ally  itself  with 
conscience  and  intellect,  or  it  may  not,  and  may  be 
founded  merely  on  taste  and  temperament.  It  is  a 
disposition  in  some  men  of  strong  character  to  insist 
on  seeing  nothing  but  their  own  domain  wherever  they 
turn,  and  to  think  of  their  way  not  only  as  best  for 
themselves,  but  for  every  other  with  whom  they  come 
into  contact.  Natures  of  this  kind  reverse  the  consti- 
tution of  the  chameleon,  and  claim  to  give  their  own 
color  wherever  they  lay  themselves  down.  Imperiously 
or  gently,  they  seek  to  dictate  not  merely  the  pursuits, 
but  the  enjoyments,  of  all  around,  and  they  make  life 
in  their  circle  either  quiet  unquestioning  submission, 
or  a  constant  struggle  for  freedom. 

In  all  these  cases,  there  may  be  much  that  is  good, 
a  true  homage  to  God  in  the  conscience,  right  reason 
in  the  intellect,  a  sincere  desire  to  promote  the  happi- 
ness of  those  around  them,  in  imposing  their  own  will, 
but,  withal,  there  is  a  subtle  form  of  self-gratification 
at  the  root  of  it,  a  mistaken  self-assertion,  which  does 
not  leave  room  for  other  natures  to  develop  themselves 
in  freedom. 

It  may  be  asked  if,  in  no  case,  we  are  warranted  to 
interfere  with  our  fellow-men  in  such  matters  as  these. 
Most  certainly  we  cannot  remain  indifferent  to  what 
they  do  and  are,  if  we  have  any  regard  for  God's  truth 
and  their  welfare.  Humanity,  as  well  as  Christianity, 
makes  a  man  his  brother's  keeper.     But  we  should  be 


CHRISTIAN   AND    SOCIAL   TOLERANCE.  237 

very  sure  that  it  is  regard  to  God's  truth  and  another's 
welfare  that  actuates  us,  and  not  the  mere  wilfulness 
that  seeks  its  own  way.  There  are  few  things  in  which 
a  man  needs  to  pray  more  for  clearsightedness  than  to 
be  kept  from  confounding  God's  will  with  his  own 
strength  of  caprice,  and  from  fancying  he  is  seeking 
another's  good  when  he  is  merely  anxious  to  see  the 
reflection  of  his  own  peculiarities.  Even  when  we 
have  every  reason  to  believe  our  cause  to  be  just,  and 
our  motives  pure,  we  must  deal  with  men  as  having 
independent  rights  of  their  own,  and  we  must  learn  to 
respect  these,  whatever  be  the  relationship,  if  we  are 
to  gain  the  end  we  seek.  If  there  be  sin,  above  all, 
sin  that  is  dangerous  and  soul-destroying,  we  must 
"  reprove,  rebuke,"  though  even  then,  "  with  all  long- 
suffering  ; "  but  we  should  seek  to  feel  that  there  is  a 
very  broad  field  within  this,  where  there  is  room  for  a 
variety  of  temperament  and  action  which  is  almost 
infinite,  and  where  each  one  has  the  same  right  to 
choose  for  himself  what  is  best.  We  have  to  learn 
that,  within  the  limits  of  what  is  not  positively  wrong, 
every  one  has  the  right  to  be  himself ',  to  develop  his 
own  nature  in  his  own  way,  and  that  he  cannot  be 
forced  into  -the  mould  of  another  without  losing  his 
capacity  of  highest  enjoyment,  and  his  power  of  great- 
est usefulness  to  his  fellow-men.  Our  duty  under  God 
is  to  be  true  to  our  own  nature,  but  to  grant  this  priv- 
ilege also  to  every  other,  and,  where  we  seek  to  influ- 
ence them,  to  do  it  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  their 
nature. 

It  is  frequently  very  hard  to  allow  this,  especially 
when  there  are  close  relationships  of  friendship  and 


288  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING   HIMSELF. 

family.  Husband  and  wife,  parents  and  children, 
brothers  and  sisters,  find  it  most  difficult  of  all  to 
make  allowance  for  each  other's  variety  of  nature,  and 
to  remain  side  by  side  without  undue  interference 
with  one  another's  peculiarities.  The  affection  they 
bear  each  other  becomes  a  snare  to  them  in  urging 
assimilation,  and  the  necessity  of  close  intercourse 
seems  to  require  that  there  should  be  common  tastes 
and  pursuits. 

It  is  here  that  the  further  principle  of  this  passage- 
comes  in,  that  we  are  not  merely  to  refrain  from  con- 
straining others  into  our  way,  but,  as  far  as  we  can, 
we  are  to  meet  them  in  theirs.  If  there  be  a  separa- 
tion of  taste,  instead  of  compelling  them  to  surrender, 
we  are  to  forbear,  and,  if  the  thing  be  harmless  for 
us,  and  it  will  gratify  them,  we  are  to  take  part  in 
their  pursuits.  If  we  constrain  them,  we  violate  the 
law  of  freedom  and  narrow  their  nature,  whereas  if  we 
give  way,  we  exercise  the  truest  freedom  —  that  of 
self-control,  and  benefit  our  own  nature  in  the  highest 
way.  Constraint  would  become  mutual  repulsion  and 
dislike ;  while  freedom  makes  the  attraction  equal  on 
both  sides,  and  we  gain  more  than  we  surrender.  To 
give  and  not  to  exact,  to  throw  out  feelers  and  tendrils 
from  our  own  stem,  not  to  wrench  the  branches  of 
every  other  tree  in  our  direction,  is  the  true  law  of 
united  growth. 

The  question  may  arise  here  again  —  Is  there  no 
limit  to  this  surrender  ?  and  it  is  pointed  out.  We 
are  to  please  our  neighbor  "for  his  good  to  edification." 
This  is  the  end,  and  the  end  prescribes  the  limit.  Our 
great  object  must  not  be  to  please  our  neighbor,  any 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL   TOLERANCE.  239 

more  than  to  please  ourselves,  but  to  do  him  the  high- 
est good,  and  gain  an  influence  that  may  lead  up  to 
truth  and  duty  and  God.  Such  a  principle  saves 
Christian  compliance  from  sycophancy  or  character- 
lessness. It  is  implied  in  ifr  that  we  can  yield  in  noth- 
ing which  would  lead  him  to  sin  or  impair  the  strength 
of  his  spiritual  nature.  It  is  implied,  moreover,  that 
we  cannot  surrender  any  part  of  our  own  proper  na- 
ture in  doing  this.  We  must  be  ourselves  if  we  are  to 
be  useful  in  any  way,  and  it  can  never  be  our  duty 
to  sacrifice  our  own  mental  constitution,  still  less  our 
moral  nature,  to  build  up  that  of  another.  But  within 
these  two  limits,  —  the  indulgence  of  our  fellow-men 
in  sin,  and  the  compromise  of  our  own  true  nature, — 
there  is  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  endless  charity 
and  compliance  with  each  other's  tastes  and  tempera- 
ments. The  tree  that  has  its  firm-fixed  root  and  up- 
right stem  has  also  its  spreading  branches  and  thousand 
waving  twigs,  which  yield  to  the  breeze  and  salute  the 
gentlest  movement  of  the  surrounding  air.  How  beau- 
tiful strength  is,  when  it  thus  melts  away  at  its  extrem- 
ities into  kindliness  and  courtesy ;  and  how  attractive 
would  be  firm  Christian  principle,  when  it  was  seen 
that  it  could  clothe  itself  with  softness  and  tenderness, 
and  that  it  rises  so  powerful  and  lofty  to  bear  up  and 
spread  out  all  genial  affections,  like  leaves  and  blos- 
soms, and  to  have  all  innocent  enjoyments  come  flut- 
tering like  birds  to  sing  among  its  branches  !  "  Strength 
and  beauty  are  in  his  sanctuary." 

II.    We  have  to  show  that  this  forbearance  is  illustrat- 
ed by  Christ's  example.     "  For  even  Christ  pleased  not 


240  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

himself;  but,  as  it  is  written.  The  reproaches  of  them 
that  reproached  thee  fell  on  Me." 

The  quotation  is  from  the  sixty-ninth  psalm,  in  which 
the  speaker  is  David ;  but  the  apostle  takes  the  words 
as  completed  in  Christ.  "  It  is  written  in  the  psalms 
concerning  Him."  This  manner  of  dealing  with  the 
psalms  gives  us  a  light  to  read  them  in.  Wherever  a 
man  is  uttering  a  breathing  of  the  Divine  life,  it  is 
not  merely  Christ  that  he  is  implicitly  looking  forward 
to,  but  it  is  Christ  that  is  breathing  and  speaking  in 
him.  Christ's  Spirit  is  advancing  all  through  that  Old 
Testament  world,  in  outward  symbol  and  inward  aspi- 
ration, ever  more  distinctly  to  his  own  personal  appear- 
ance, as  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  What  God  is  in 
nature,  Christ  is  in  that  entire  history,  —  its  final  end 
and  sustaining  life.  It  is  moved  beneath  by  his  com- 
ing, and  is  cast  upward  into  events  and  persons  that 
reflect  Him,  and  into  utterances  of  soul  that  spring 
from  Him  and  seek  after  Him.  Therefore,  when  Da- 
vid expresses  this  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  it  is  Christ 
already  in  him,  uttering  what  is  true  so  far  of  David, 
but  true  in  the  highest  sense  only  of  Himself.  It  is 
not  by  accommodation,  then,  but  deep  insight,  that  the 
apostle  .quotes. 

To  prove  the  disinterested  forbearance  of  Christ,  lie 
cites  a  passage  that  shows  his  self-devotion  to  God. 
He  offered  Himself  to  bear  the  reproach  cast  on  that 
great  name,  and  thought  nothing  of  self  if  the  honor 
of  God  was  maintained.  There  is  a  broad  principle 
taught  us  also  here,  viz.,  that  right  action  toward  man 
flows  naturally  from  right  feeling  toward  God.  If  self- 
pleasing  has  been  sacrificed  on  the  Divine  altar,  it  has 


CHRISTIAN   AND    SOCIAL   TOLERANCE.  241 

received  its  death-blow  in  every  other  form.  He  who 
has  truly,  deeply,  entirely  given  up  his  will  to  God,  is 
not  the  man  to  force  it,  harshly  and  capriciously,  on 
his  fellow-men.  This  is  what  the  apostle  would  have 
us  infer  regarding  Christ  in  his  human  bearings. 

We  have  to  show  then,  as  briefly  as  may  be,  that 
this  was  a  characteristic  of  Christ  in  his  intercourse 
with  men,  —  forbearance  and  freedom.  He  presented 
the  Divine  will,  and  pressed  it  on  men  as  the  rule  of 
all  life,  but  He  refrained  carefully  from  crushing  their 
nature  in  its  free  development ;  and  for  this  very  rea- 
son, that  the  Divine  will  was  to  Him  the  one  only  law, 
and  all  human  natures  were  to  be  made  free  from 
bondage  in  serving  it. 

An  illustration  of  the  forbearance  of  Christ  lies,  at 
the  very  first,  in  the  variety  of  character  wliieli  his 
earthly  life  drew  around  it.  He  was  pre-eminently 
broad  and  many-sided,  touching  and  attracting  human 
nature  in  all  its  aspects.  His  disciples  represent  the 
extremes  of  temperament,  from  the  sanguine  out- 
spoken Peter  to  the  quiet  reflective  John,  and  within 
these  all  the  rest  move  and  act  in  their  own  likeness. 
He  is  never  careful  to  stamp  on  them  a  hard  uniform- 
ity, but  leaves  them  to  their  own  natural  development, 
and  aids  them  in  it.  Then,  outside  this  circle,  we 
have  groups'  of  all  possible  colors,  —  the  Pharisee  and 
the  Publican,  Nicodemus  and  Zaccheus,  Mary  of  Beth- 
any and  Mary  Magdalene,  the  woman  by  the  well  and 
the  women  at  the  sepulchre,  the  centurion  beside  the 
cross  and  the  thief  upon  it.  He  draws  all  men  unto 
Him,  and  while  there  is  a  change  in  the  depth  of  their 
nature,  —  while  a  higher  life  is  infused  into  them,  — 

16 


242  CHRIST    NOT   PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

it  unfolds  itself  in  every  direction  without  constraint, 
as  the  earth  in  spring-time  is  drawn  forth  into  every 
form  and  color  of  leaf  and  flower  by  the  all-sympathetic 
attraction  of  the  sun.  We  do  not  admire  enough  this 
generosity  of  mind  in  our  great  Master,  so  different 
from  that  which  prevails  among  the  founders  of  human 
systems,  who  cannot  be  satisfied  unless  their  formulas 
are  repeated,  and  their  minutest  features  reflected,  by 
all  their  scholars.  His  word  "  came  with  power,"  not 
to  stamp  with  the  uniformity  of  death,  but  to  create 
the  manifoldness  of  life.  How  far  other  the  society 
which  gathered  round  Jesus  of  Nazareth  from  that 
harsh  spiritual  despotism  which  Loyola  sought  to  create 
under  his  name ! 

This  farther  may  be  remarked,  in  the  human  life  of 
Christ,  that  He  not  merely  refrained  from  interfering 
with  free  growth  Himself,  but  He  interposed  to  defend 
others  token  they  were  interfered  with.  His  most  marked 
action  is  in  behalf  of  liberty,  and  He  is  strongest  in 
rebuke  when  he  checks  the  attempt  of  any  one  to  thrust 
his  own  character  on  another,  to  the  destruction  of  its 
genuineness.  What  a  lesson  there  is  to  contending, 
narrow-minded  religionists,  who  can  see  nothing  good 
beyond  their  own  circle,  in  his  answer :  "  Master,  we 
saw  one  casting  out  devils  in  thy  name,  and  we  forbade 
him,  because  he  followeth  not  with  us"  (Luke  ix.  49). 
"Forbid  him  not,  for  he  that  is  not  against  us  is  for 
us."  "  We  must  not  narrow,"  as  if  he  had  said,  "  the 
cause  of  God  to  our  own  party,  but  rejoice  in  goodness 
wherever  it  appears.  If  we  are  right,  it  is  all  coming 
our  way."  What  an  admonition  to  those  who  would 
impose  their  own  way  of  work  upon  every  other  when 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL    TOLERANCE.  243 

Martha's  complaint  is  so  gently  but  firmly  met !  What 
a  resolve  to  allow  the  heart  its  own  manner  of  mani- 
festation when  He  defends,  against  the  murmurs  of  his 
disciples,  her  who  poured  the  box  of  ointment  on  his 
head  !  It  was  her  way  of  proving  affection,  and  this 
made  it  good  and  right,  and  brought  forth  that  touch- 
ing justification  which  is  not  an  ingenious  excuse,  but 
a  deep,  true  reason  :  u  Against  the  day  of  my  burying 
hath  she  kept  this"  (John  xii.  7).  The  inspiration 
of  a  loving  heart  has  the  gift  of  prophecy.  Its  insight 
is  foresight,  because  it  is  taught  of  God.  And  what  a 
rebuke  to  those  who  would  bring  down  every  thing  that 
is  lovely  and  of  good  report  to  the  hard  utilitarian 
measurement,  and,  in  the  pretended  interest  of  fruit, 
would  strike  off  all  the  spontaneous  blossoms  of  Chris- 
tian affection  ! 

In  the  whole  earthly  life  of  Christ,  this  feature  can 
be  discerned,  —  the  refusal  to  constrain  a  natural  tem- 
perament, or  to  seek  to  make  any  one  be  other  than 
he  really  was,  sin  only  excepted.  In  this  sense,  too, 
"  the  Son  makes  them  free,  and  they  are  free  indeed." 
Shall  we  say  that  He,  the  normal  Man,  had  all  the 
features  of  sinless  human  nature  within  Himself,  and 
could  therefore  rejoice  in  them  all,  or  that  He  had,  with 
his  own  distinct  nature,  that  most  sensitive  sympathy, 
which  enabled  Him  to  understand  them  every  one,  and 
that  broadest  wisdom  which  ave  Him  to  know  that 
there  can  be  nothing  highly  good  which  is  not  perfectly 
true,  and  nothing  strong  which  is  not  natural  ?  This, 
at  least,  is  striking,  that  the  most  intense  and  concen- 
trated of  all  natures,  burning  with  consuming  fervor 
for  God's  honor  and  truth,  was  yet  the  most  expansive, 


244  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

and  so  considerate  and  gentle  as  not  to  crush  the 
softest  susceptibility  of  those  about  Him,  like  the  sea 
which  is  so  mighty  to  shake  the  earth,  and  which  holds 
the  most  delicate  flowers  with  all  their  filaments  un- 
broken in  its  bosom.  It  is  another  evidence  of  the 
Divinity  of  His  character,  that  such  power  and  freedom 
were  combined  in  one. 

There  is  another  way  of  looking  at  the  forbearance 
of  Christ  with  variety  of  disposition,  when  we  turn 
from  his  earthly  life  to  the  work  He  carries  on  by  his 
/Spirit.  His  withdrawal  from  earth  in  His  visible 
person  is  in  favor  of  free  Christian  development,  since 
the  very  presence  of  a  visible  Lord  and  Lawgiver,  how- 
ever wise  and  tolerant,  must  tend  to  uniformity  in  the 
character  of  his  subjects.  The  principle  of  working  by 
his  Spirit  is  to  enter  into  each  nature  by  itself,  and 
unfold  it  from  its  own  germ  and  centre.  It  is  the 
lifting  up  and  widening  of  the  first  overshadowing 
canopy  of  his  personal  guidance,  which  was  needful  in 
its  time,  into  the  grand  arch  of  the  heavens,  beneath 
which  all  can  grow  up  more  freely  and  expansively. 
It  is  for  wise  reasons,  in  regard  to  Christian  growth, 
that  a  visible  Head  is  removed  from  the  Christian 
Church,  and  that  the  liberal  unconstrained  movements 
of  faith  are  substituted,  meanwhile,  for  the  limitation 
and  fixity  of  sight.  We  can  perceive  how  the  disciples 
started  up  into  stronger,  broader  men,  under  this  new 
influence,  and  how  their  characters  struck  out  on  all 
sides  into  more  marked  individuality.  There  was 
a  presence  of  Christ  to  implant  the  first  seeds,  and 
foster  them  ;  then  a  departure,  that  they  might  grow  up 
more  freely  in  his  absence,  till  through  His  Spirit  they 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL    TOLERANCE.  245 

reach  a  full  stature  and  firm  character.  When  these 
are  gained,  and  individuality  fully  formed,  there  can 
be  a  safe  return  to  that  closest  proximity  to  Him, 
which  is  their  highest  happiness,  and  where,  too,  they 
shall  feel  that  the  law  of  love  is  perfect  liberty. 

These  fruits  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in  humanity  are 
of  the  most  varied  kind.  How  different  are  not  merely 
the  apostles  Peter,  Paul,  John,  James,  each  with  his 
own  view  of  truth,  but  how  different  the  epistles  of  the 
same  apostle,  caused  by  the  variety  of  development  in 
the  churches  to  which  they  were  addressed  !  There  is 
no  book  on  earth  that  has  such  perfect  harmony  in  it, 
rising  from  such  a  variety  of  color  and  character,  as 
the  New  Testament,  where  all  the  features  of  human 
nature  and  all  the  graces  of  the  Christian  life  gather 
round  one  centre,  —  the  one  Lord  and  one  faith.  And 
though  the  Church  of  Christ  has  failed  to  learn  this, 
and  though,  by  an  attempt  at  forced  uniformity,  it  has 
rent  its  own  unity,  we  can  see  what  may  be  called  the 
breadth  of  view  of  the  Great  Head,  in  that  He  does  not 
identify  Himself  with  their  narrowness,  nor  confine  his 
reviving  influences  to  any  one  portion  where  his  truth 
remains.  The  showers  of  his  grace  come  from  too  high 
a  source  to  be  limited  by  the  walls  they  build  against 
each  other.  He  is  repeating  down  through  all  time 
the  rebuke  He  gave  to  the  uncharitableness  of  John, 
and  the  one-sidedness  of  Martha,  and  the  murmurs  of 
his  disciples,  —  is  teaching  us  to  look  with  an  approv- 
ing eye  on  every  honest  effort  to  do  good  and  to  take 
pleasure  in  the  wide  variety  of  human  character  and 
Christian  grace. 

Christ  in  his  earthly  life,  and  by  his  heavenly  Spirit, 


246  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

thus  carries  out  into  a  higher  domain  the  working  of 
God  himself  in  the  world  of  nature.  There  is  the  same 
freedom  and  the  same  variety,  as  if  the  Being  who  has 
the  mightiest  power  and  most  controlling  will  would 
prove  his  strength  by  establishing,  not  despotism  but 
liberty,  and  by  allowing  all  his  rational  creatures  to 
feel  that,  while  He  holds  them  in  his  hand,  they  belong 
in  the  fullest  sense  also  to  themselves. 

III.  We  have  now,  in  the  last  place,  to  present  some 
of  the  advantages  that  would  remit  from  acting  on  this 
principle. 

It  may  seem  as  if  in  this  view  of  the  work  of  God  in 
nature,  and  of  Christ  in  the  Christian  Church,  we  were 
far  enough  from  any  practical  connection  with  our 
own  daily  life.  And  yet  it  is  not  so.  The  world  is  all 
made  on  the  same  plan,  and  the  laws  that  regulate  its 
moral  and  social  state  are  as  universal  as  the  laws  of 
light  and  gravitation,  which  govern  suns  and  stars,  and 
yet  preside  over  the  color  and  fall  of  a  leaf.  The 
grandeur  of  the  Bible  consists  in  making  us  feel  this. 
It  lets  us  see  light  in  God's  light.  It  asks  us  to  be 
children  of  our  Father  in  heaven,  followers  of  his  Son, 
and  to  study  the  manner  in  which  supreme  wisdom 
and  love  act,  that  we  may  govern  our  conduct  to  others 
by  the  same  laws.  If  we  only  do  so,  the  great  forces 
of  the  moral  world  are  all  in  our  favor.  As  God  gains 
his  ends  we  shall  gain  ours,  or,  rather,  we  shall  aid  in 
gaining  his,  and  find  that  we  have  a  share  in  them. 
His  forbearance  toward  the  nature  He  has  given  us, 
the  law  of  freedom  he  has  placed  us  under,  the  many- 
sided  development  He  permits,   both   in   nature   and 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL    TOLERANCE.  247 

grace ;  above  all,  the  example  of  Christ,  so  free  from 
capricious  dictation,  so  full  of  reason  addressed  to  our 
reason,  and  love  touching  our  hearts,  and  liberty  with- 
al, —  these  become  our  guiding  lights  to  teach  us  how 
to  deal  with  all  around  us,  and  give  us  the  hope  that 
we  shall  have  his  help  in  gaining  the  happiest  issue. 

If,  in  Christian  or  social  intercourse,  we  wish  to 
deliver  any  man  from  what  we  think  error,  we  must 
do  so  by  putting  him  in  the  way  of  convincing  himself. 
To  beat  him  down  by  unreasoning  opposition,  or  even 
by  an  irresistible  argument,  may  please  us,  but  is  not 
likely  to  gain  him.  There  is  a  great  chasm  between 
achieving  a  victory  and  making  a  conquest,  and  the 
completeness  of  the  first  often  prevents  the  last.  To 
respect  a  man's  freedom,  never  to  press  him  so  hard  as 
to  humiliate  him,  to  give  him  the  clew  that  may  help 
him  to  guide  himself  to  the  right,  is  according  to  the 
Divine  model,  and  would  aid  us  in  serving  at  the  same 
time  both  our  fellow-men  and  the  truth.  How  much 
this  is  needed  in  the  Christian  Church  every  one  can 
perceive  who  looks  around. 

Again,  in  the  family  circle,  it  is  often  painful  to  see 
minds  that,  from  their  strength  of  character,  are  fitted 
to  influence  all  around  them  for  good,  losing  the  power 
through  the  over-assertion  of  self.  Authority  must 
exist,  but  it  is  there  only  that  influence  may  have  oppor- 
tunity to  do  its  work,  and  when  authority  makes  itself 
felt  at  every  turn,  and  pushes  itself  into  every  little 
act,  freedom  is  gone,  and  influence  vanishes  with  it. 
This  is  one  cause,  as  much  as  over-remissness,  why 
the  families  of  earnest  men  so  frequently  take  a  course 
which    disappoints   their   expectation,  and  why,  after 


248  CHRIST   NOT   PLEASING   HIMSELF. 

sullen  submission,  there  comes  sudden  outbreak.  Com 
stitutional  government  here,  as  elsewhere,  is  the  great 
thing  to  be  aimed  at,  —  that  is,  firm  law  on  certain 
great  essentials,  but  freedom  within  this  to  grow  up 
according  to  taste  and  temperament.  If  strong 
natures  with  deep  convictions,  anxious  to  have  them 
adopted,  could  only  be  made  to  see  this,  and  could 
learn  to  control  themselves,  their  end  would  be  sooner 
gained.  Power  of  character  and  steadfast  example 
have  a  silent,  assimilating  influence,  which  seldom  fail, 
unless  they  are  thwarted  by  irritating  interference  with 
natural  freedom. 

It  should  be  considered,  further,  that  if  we  wish  those 
we  are  influencing  to  become  valuable  for  any  thing,  it 
must  be  by  permitting  them  to  be  themselves.  They 
will  do  very  little  if  they  turn  out  dead  transcripts  of 
us.  If  any  man  is  to  have  power  either  in  the  world 
or  the  church,  he  must  have  independent  life  ;  and  for 
independent  life,  liberty  is  indispensable.  We  can 
never  sanction  liberty  in  the  way  of  sin,  but  there  are 
a  thousand  little  daily  acts  where  it  will  demand  to  be 
left  to  itself,  and  where  we  should  take  pleasure  in  rec- 
ognizing it.  These  are  the  very  signs  and  safeguards 
of  the  personality  God  has  bestowed  upon  his  creatures, 
and  it  is  only  by  seeking  to  enter  into  it  as  He  does, 
freely  and  kindly,  respecting  it,  and  conforming  to  it, 
that  we  can  guide  it  to  a  right  end,  and  make  it  a  real 
power  for  good. 

This  is  the  only  way,  too,  in  which  we  can  hope  to 
make  our  fellow-creatures  truly  our  own.  We  cannot 
give  ourselves  away  to  another,  except  as  we  feel  that 
we  belong  to  ourselves.     God,  who  is  the  lord  and  pro- 


CHRISTIAN    AND    SOCIAL    TOLERANCE.  249 

prietor  of  us  all,  lias  acted  on  this  principle.  He  has  put 
us  in  a  manner  into  our  own  keeping,  that  He  may  re- 
ceive us  back  again  as  more  his  own.  If  we  act  so,  and  if 
our  friendships  and  family  ties  are  constructed  on  this 
principle,  we  shall  have  our  reward  in  finding  them 
grow  constantly  closer  and  more  inward.  Let  us  seek 
to  have  them  consist,  not  so  much  in  exacting  as  in 
rendering  duties,  not  in  demanding  interest  but  in 
extending  it,  turning  our  eye  outward  rather  than  in- 
ward, "  looking  not  on  our  own  tilings,  but  the  things  of 
others,"  and  then  the  little  differences  of  taste  and 
opinion,  instead  of  being  barriers  to  union,  will  become 
the  instruments  of  it.  After  all,  in  every  age  and  in 
every  class  of  life,  sympathy  is  the  great  craving  of  the 
human  heart,  and  if  we  can  be  so  unselfish  as  to  forget 
ourselves  and  show  it  with  the  peculiarities  of  others, 
we  shall  be  astonished  at  the  rich  return,  —  how  cold 
natures  open  out  to  a  kindly  presence,  as  flowers  in 
spring  when  the  hard  frost  lifts  its  repressive  hand. 

This  additional  inducement  may  be  mentioned,  that 
in  pursuing  such  a  course  we  shall  best  succeed  in 
elevating  and  broadening  our  own  nature.  If  we 
could  bring  all  around  us  into  our  own  mould,  we 
should  only  have  narrowed  ourselves  in  the  process  of 
constraining  others.  But,  if  we  enter  into  sympathy 
with  their  pursuits,  we  not  merely  grow  in  unselfish- 
ness, but  add  something  to  our  intellectual  nature 
which  was  not  there  before.  We  have  so  much  more 
of  humanity  within  us.  There  can  be  no  finer  instance 
of  the  way  in  which  we  gain  by  yielding,  and  make 
conquests  of  men  and  things  when  we  seem  to  be  led 
captive. 


250  CHRIST   NOT    PLEASING    HIMSELF. 

In  all  these  considerations  we  have  been  able  to 
advert  only  incidentally  to  what  should  be  the  great 
end  of  all  this  action.  It  is  not  to  please  ourselves, 
but  neither  is  it  ultimately  to  please  our  neighbor.  It 
is  to  secure  an  influence  with  him  for  his  highest  good, 
—  to  bring  him  into  the  path  of  life  and  God.  To 
deal  with  this  would  require  a  separate  discourse,  and 
we  can  therefore  do  no  more  than  remark  that  friend- 
ship and  family  affection,  most  precious  as  they  are 
among  earthly  things,  are,  in  the  Divine  view,  only 
channels  for  something  nobler  and  more  enduring, — 
for  infusing  the  love  that  survives  earth,  and  forming 
the  ties  that  death  cannot  break.  In  this,  too,  Christ 
is  our  great  example,  who  illustrated  this  world  with 
self-denial,  that  his  words  and  life  might  be  strong  to 
point  to  and  plead  for  another. 

In  all  this  work,  there  are  needed  two  great  qualities, 
love  and  wisdom.  Neither  will  suffice  alone.  Love  in 
its  earnestness  is  often  too  narrow,  and  wisdom  in  its 
breadth  may  be  too  cold.  They  are  the  light  and  heat 
of  the  moral  world,  which  must  go  together.  We  shall 
find  them  also  in  the  example  of  Christ  —  that  nature, 
so  ardent  and  so  large,  seeking  one  thing,  —  the  like- 
ness of  God  in  man,  —  but  knowing  that  this  likeness 
can  be  reflected  in  many  ways,  that  each  child  of  the 
family  may  have  the  Father's  image,  with  its  own 
individuality,  as  every  stone  of  the  New  Jerusalem  will 
have  its  own  color,  while  the  light  of  God  is  reflected 
in  them  all. 


XV. 


|;ltc  ^Jranjcs  of  |jfi\  and  tlitir  fl/mtforfe  m  |Ul 


"  Tet  the  Lord  to  ill  command  his  loving-kindness  hi  the  day- 
time, and  in  the  night  his  song  shall  be  ivith  me,  and  my  grayer 
unto  the  God  of  my  life."  —  Psalm  xlii.  8. 

PSALMS  xlii.  and  xliii.  have  so  close  a  connec- 
tion that  they  must  be  regarded  as  one.  The 
same  struggle  and  victory  pass  through  them, 
and  they  are  necessary  to  complete  each  other.  From 
external  and  internal  evidence,  they  belong  to  David, 
and  to  that  part  of  his  life  when  he  was  fleeing  from 
the  face  of  Absalom  his  son. 

All  must  recollect  the  touching  scene  when  he  left 
his  palace,  crossed  the  brook  Kidron,  and  "  went  up  by 
the  ascent  of  Mount  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he  went  up, 
and  had  his  head  covered ;  and  he  went  barefoot :  and 
all  the  people  that  was  with  him  covered  every  man 
his  head,  and  they  went  up,  weeping  as  they  went " 
(2  Sam.  xv.  30).  He  was  not  so  great  in  his  youth, 
crowned  with  Goliath's  trophies,  nor  in  manhood,  when 
God  delivered  him  from  the  hand  of  Saul  and  set  him 
on  the  throne  of  Israel,  as  in  that  hour  of  desertion. 


252  THE   CHANGES   OF   LIFE, 

It  is  then  that  the  character  comes  forth,  that  faith 
flames  high,  and  the  feet  find  their  rock  in  God. 
When  we  can  look  back  on  our  own  life,  as  we  now  do 
on  David's,  we  shall  perceive  that  such  times  have  been, 
not  the  depths,  but  the  heights,  of  the  soul. 

It  is  here  that  we  can  look  into  the  heart  of  David, 
and  know  how,  in  some  measure,  he  was  according  to  the 
heart  of  God.  When  the  priests  would  have  borne 
the  ark  with  him  into  exile,  the  noble  magnanimity,  the 
deep  submission,  of  his  spirit  is  seen.  "  Carry  back 
the  ark  of  God,"  he  said,  "  into  the  city  ;  if  I  shall  find 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  He  will  bring  me  again, 
and  show  me  both  it  and  his  habitation.  But  if  He 
thus  say,  I  have  no  delight  in  thee  ;  behold,  here  am  I, 
let  Him  do  to  me  as  seemeth  good  unto  Him !  "  By 
one  of  those  strange  circles  of  events,  which  have 
surely  in  them  a  Divine  plan,  he  was  treading  the  very 
soil  of  Gethsemane,  and  up  through  his  heart  there 
was  throbbing  the  spiritual  life  of  his  Son  and  Lord. 
"  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done." 

It  was  not  indifference  to  the  ark  of  God  that 
prompted  the  words  of  David.  Banished  beyond 
Jordan,  among  the  forests  and  cataracts  of  the  moun- 
tain land  of  Gilead,  where  "  deep  calling  to  deep,"  in 
the  torrents  around  him,  seemed  emblems  of  his  trials, 
his  heart  turns  to  the  hallowed  spot,  — "  true  as  the 
dial  to  the  sun,  although  not  shone  upon."  It  breaks 
out  in  every  part  of  this  song.  The  first  verse  is  a 
longing  wish  after  it,  the  last  a  joyful  conviction  that 
he  shall  reach  it.  Three  times  his  soul  is  cast  down 
in  him,  and  three  times  he  rises  stronger  for  his  fall, 
the  onset  of  his  faith  ending  like  the  apostle  Paul's, 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS   IN   GOD.  253 

"  for  this  I  prayed  the  Lord  thrice,"  and,  like  that  of  a 
greater  still,  who  "  prayed  thrice,  using  the  same 
words." 

The  verse  we  have  selected  is  from  one  of  the 
seasons  of  comfort.  In  the  third  verse  he  had  said, 
"  My  tears  have  been  my  meat  day  and  night,  while 
they  continually  say  unto  me,  Where  is  thy  God  ?  " 
Day  and  night  God's  hand  was  heavy  upon  him,  so 
that  "  his  moisture  was  turned  into  the  drought  of 
summer,"  and  now  he  feels  that  day  and  night  God's 
comforts  can  be  with  him.  It  is  wonderful  when  we 
open  these  ancient  books  to  find  the  identity  of  human 
life.  As  men  speak,  we  can  feel  the  beatings  of  the 
same  heart,  and  see  the  tears  upon  their  face,  which 
make  us  children  of  one  family.  We  can  see,  not  less, 
the  identity  of  the  life  that  is  divine,  —  for  God's  light 
is  shining  down  into  their  souls,  and  making  them 
strong  with  the  strength  of  the  Eternal.  It  is  to  make 
us  feel  this  that  we  have  such  a  Bible,  and  it  is  thus 
we  must  seek  to  use  it. 

The  first  thought  we  would  draw  from  this  verse  is, 

that  THERE  MUST  BE  CHANGES  IN  EVERY  TRUE  LIFE. 

These  changes  give  to  life  the  most  opposed  con- 
ditions—  light  and  darkness.  There  is  day,  and  there 
is  night.  That  these  are  in  the  first  place  to  be  taken 
literally  is  admitted,  and  that  we  are  taught  to  look  to 
an  unchanging  God  through  all  the  changes  of  natural 
time.  But  that  day  and  night  look  farther  than  this, 
is  seen  from  the  whole  tenor  of  the  psalm,  and  from 
the  usage  of  Scripture  language.  They  represent  the 
shiftings  of  color  which  pass  across  our  history,  from 


254  THE   CHANGES   OP   LIFE, 

the  broad  bright  sunshine  of  prosperity  to  the  darkest 
and  heaviest  of  our  trials.  If  our  life  is  to  be  of  any 
value,  these  must  come  in  some  form,  outwardly  or  in- 
wardly. "  Because  they  have  no  changes,"  says  the 
Psalmist,  "therefore  they  fear  not  God"  (Psalm  lv. 
19).  To  be  convinced  of  this,  we  have  only  to  look  at 
the  lives  of  those  who  have  come  forth  as  strong  true 
men  on  God's  side,  at  the  vicissitudes  in  the  course  of 
Abraham,  and  Jacob,  and  Moses,  and  David,  at  the 
conflicts  of  the  followers  of  Christ,  above  all  at  the  life 
of  the  Great  Head  himself. 

What  a  breadth  of  experience  there  was  in  Him ! 
First,  the  day  of  brightness  which  He  left,  then  what 
may  be  called  his  night  season  in  this  world,  and  now 
again  his  exceeding  gladness  in  the  light  of  God.  His 
earthly  life,  set  like  a  night  between  these  two  great 
days,  had  also  its  changes.  He  had  his  time  for  the 
transfiguration  robes,  and  his  cry  up  through  the  dark- 
ness of  the  cross  ;  his  moments  when  He  rejoiced  in 
spirit,  "  I  thank  Thee,  0  Father,"  and  his  hours  of 
sorrow  even  unto  death.  A  broad  experience  like  this 
runs,  more  or  less,  through  the  history  of  all  who 
belong  to  Him.  The  more  we  study  their  lives,  and 
seek  to  enter  into  sympathy  with  them,  the  more  we 
shall  feel  that  our  life  cannot  be  uniform,  and  that, 
above  all,  we  must  be  made  partakers  of  the  suffering. 
Shall  we  repine  when  God  puts  us  among  the  children, 
and  makes  us  conformable  to  Christ  ?  If  we  have  the 
sharp  and  sudden  fall,  as  over  a  precipice,  we  hear 
some  of  them  saying,  "  Thou  hast  lifted  me  up  and 
cast  me  down  ;  "  and  if  we  have  weary,  wistful  looks, 
on  through  a  life  where  all  seems  darkened,  and  the 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS   IN   GOD.  255 

sweet  of  existence  crushed  out  for  ever,  another  says, 
"  I  shall  go  softly  all  my  years,  in  the  bitterness  of  my 
soul."  There  is  no  place  so  gloomy  where  we  cannot 
see  the  trace  of  some  foot,  now  "  standing  in  God's 
even  place,"  nor  so  lonely,  where  Christ  has  not  beenr 
and  (shall  we  not  say  ?)  where  Christ  is  not  now.  Let 
us  settle  it  with  ourselves  that  such  changes  must  come 
to  us,  and  let  this  give  us,  I  do  not  say  submission, 
but  acquiescence.  It  is  the  lot  of  the  family,  —  it  is 
more,  it  is  the  life  of  Christ,  and  it  must  be  spread 
throughout  the  members. 

These  changes,  let  it  be  observed,  are  according  to  a 
fixed  law.  Day  and  night  are  the  ordinances  of  heaven 
upon  earth  for  the  growth  of  earth's  life,  and,  if  we 
could  trace  the  sunshine  and  the  dark  in  every  fol- 
lower of  God,  we  should  see  them  arranged  with  equal 
wisdom.  It  is  a  more  complex  work,  but,  be  sure  of 
this,  there  is  order  in  it  all,  and  the  hand  that  rules 
the  world  in  its  orbit,  and  that  makes  it  fulfil  its  course 
through  light  and  shade,  is  governing  our  lives  for  a 
higher  than  earthly  end. 

One  feature  of  the  law  is  presented  so  far  for  our 
guidance.  It  is  a  laiv  of  alternation.  These  changes 
give  place  to  each  other  in  succession.  It  is  day  and 
night,  and,  let  us  thank  God,  it  is  also  in  due  time 
night  and  day.     Each  has  its  time  and  use. 

In  the  general,  Gfod  sends  to  us  a  portion  of  the  day 
before  the  night.  There  are  in  the  natural  life  happy 
homes  of  childhood,  loving  hearts  so  close  to  us  that 
they  shut  out  all  evil  beyond,  fond  fancies  and  bright 
hopes  which  make  an  Eden  begin  our  memory,  as  it 
does  the  world's.     The  Christian  life  is  even  so.     It  is 


256  THE   CHANGES    OF   LIFE, 

usually,  at  first,  a  simple,  humble,  apprehension  of 
God's  mercy  which  gives  the  love  of  youth,  and  knows 
not  the  pains  of  backsliding,  nor  the  chillness  of 
decline.  It  is  in  kindness  that  God  begins  our  life  with 
such  a  daytime.  It  strengthens  for  the  trial,  and 
creates  a  memory  within,  which  can  be  nourished  into 
a  hope.  It  helps  us  all  to  reason  with  the  ancient 
patriarch,  "  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,  and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  ?  "  If  we  have  had 
our  day,  it  is  our  duty  and  our  strength  not  to  forget 
it.  The  great  poet  who  said  that  "  nothing  can  be 
more  wretched  than  to  remember  happiness  in  misery," 
was  surely  wrong.  To  remember  what  is  truly  good  is 
to  possess  it  for  ever. 

But  after  day  it  is  God's  manner  sooner  or  later  to  send 
night.  It  is  night  that  lets  us  measure  the  day.  The 
daylight  cannot  be  estimated  when  we  are  in  it.  It 
needs  night  to  look  back  on  it,  to  see  what  is  true  and 
false,  what  solid  and  empty.  At  night  we  can  tell  our 
work,  and  count  our  gains,  and  resolve,  if  another  day 
be  granted,  that  to-morrow  shall  not  be  as  this  day; 
but  much  more  abundant.  It  is  night  that  lets  us 
measure  ourselves.  We  cannot  know  self  by  day. 
We  are  mixed  with  the  busy  distracting  world,  dis- 
persed and  confused  in  action  and  enjoyment.  The 
night  comes  to  let  the  thoughts  concentrate  and  fall 
back  on  their  real  strength,  to  make  them  feel  what 
basis  they  have  within  :  "  Thou  hast  proved  my  heart, 
Thou  hast  visited  me  in  the  night"  (Psalm  xvii.  3). 
It  is  night  that  lets  us  measure  the  real  universe.  By 
day  it  is  shut.  We  see  only  this  earth  and  earthly  sun. 
By  night  God  withdraws  the  veil,  reveals  eternity  with 


AND    THEIR   COMFORTS   IN   GOD.  257 

its  far-off  shores  of  sparkling  worlds,  and  fills  the  soul 
with  infinite  longings,  which  make  it  conscious  it  has 
a  universe  within,  greater  than  the  universe  without, 
and  which  can  be  satisfied  only  with  God.  It  learns 
to  stretch  its  arms  up  to  that  world  where  there  shall 
be  no  more  night,  and  to  Him  who  fills  it :  "  Oh  that  I 
knew  where  I  might  find  Him,  that  I  might  come  even 
to  his  seat." 

For  these,  and  many  other  ends,  does  God  let  night 
fall  upon  the  soul.  If  day  has  its  light  and  its  glad- 
ness, and  its  walk  and  its  work,  night  has  its  sense  of 
void,  better  than  earth's  fulness,  and  its  deep  thoughts, 
and  humble  waiting,  and  sighing  aspirations  for  the 
dawn  —  its  refreshing  dew  below,  its  far  beacon  lights 
of  stars  above,  which  are  nearer  eternity  than  the  sun's 
brightness. 

And  yet  we  cannot  wish  that  God  should  close  our  view 
of  this  life  with  night.  It  is  a  true  feeling  which  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  ancient  mourner,  "  I  had  fainted  unless 
I  had  believed  to  see  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in  the 
land  of  the  living."  We  long  to  have  the  night  break 
up  before  we  die,  to  have  some  horizon-streak  of  the 
coming  day,  which  may  make  the  word  true,  "  it  shall 
come  to  pass  that  at  evening-time  it  shall  be  light"  — 
a  glimpse  of  dawn  like  Simeon's  view,  or  Stephen's, 
or  the  calm  that  fell  on  Christ's  own  struggle  ere  He 
died.  There  is  a  light  indeed  that  vanishes  from  our 
life,  which  we  feel  can  never  come  back,  —  never  here  ; 
"  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead,"  is  fled  to  the 
eternal  shore,  and  our  hearts  would  break  to  think  that 
any  thing  in  this  world's  future  could  make  us  forget 
it,  or  fill  the  blank.     But  there  is  another  kind  of  day 

17 


258 


which  can  come  to  the  bitterness  of  utter  bereavement. 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  rises  with  healing.  Our 
dead  are  given  back  to  us  in  our  souls,  with  more  than 
the  tenderness  of  life,  and  without  the  cruel  pang  of 
death.  When  we  can  hold  them  in  our  hearts,  with- 
out pain,  we  have  recovered  them.  They  ascend, 
as  the  Lord  did,  and  sit  in  our  thoughts  in  heavenly 
places  with  Him,  calm  and  bright,  and  the  tender 
grace  of  a  bygone  day  puts  on  also  the  glory  of  a  day 
to  come.  That  such  a  day-spring  even  here  can  visit 
the  darkest  gloom  of  trial,  let  not  any  mourner  doubt 
who  believes  that  Christ  has  left  his  own  grave  empty 
and  that  He  will  come  to  open  ours.  He  can  raise 
our  friends  from  the  bitterness  of  death,  and  give  them 
back  to  our  spirits  in  this  world,  to  speak,  and  live, 
and  even  rejoice  with  them,  that  He  may  thus  assure 
us  He  himself  is  risen,  and  that  they  too  shall  yet  be 
ours  in  full  possession. 

And,  when  such  a  day  comes,  it  is  to  console  the 
night,  —  to  make  us  feel  that  Christ's  word,  "  Weep 
not,"  has  power  with  the  living  before  He  touches  the 
bier  where  the  dead  lie.  Were  He  to  suffer  the  cloud 
to  hang  for  ever  as  heavy  and  as  dark,  it  would  over- 
whelm us  and  misrepresent  Him,  —  "  The  spirit  would 
fail  before  him,  and  the  souls  that  He  has  made !  " 
Such  a  day  comes  also  to  test  the  night,  to  try  its 
thoughts  and  its  resolves,  if  they  are  steadfast  to  their 
end,  and,  after  testing,  to  mature  them.  In  the  hours 
of  darkness  the  roots  strike  down,  the  dew  lies  all  night 
long  on  the  branches,  but  the  blossoms  and  the  fruit 
demand  the  sun ;  and  hope,  and  love,  and  higher  fel- 
lowship with  God,  and  deeper  sympathy  for  suffering 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS   IN    GOD.  259 

humanity,  come  forth  afterward  as  the  peaceable  fruits 
of  righteousness. 

The  second  thought  contained  in  this  passage  is,  that 

TO  SUIT  THESE  CHANGES   IN   LIFE  THERE  ARE   DlVINE    PRO- 
VISIONS. 

For  the  day  God  commands  "  his  loving-kindness," 
for  the  night  He  gives  "  his  song."  There  must  be 
something  suitable  in  each  of  these  provisions  to  the 
circumstances,  the  more  so,  that  similar  expressions 
are  found  in  other  passages  of  Scripture.  The  "  songs 
of  the  night  "is  as  favorite  a  word  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment as  "  glory  in  tribulation"  is  of  the  New,  and  it  is 
one  of  those  which  prove  that  both  Testaments  have 
the  self-same  root  and  spirit. 

The  loving-kindness  of  God  is  a  movement, — not  so 
much  from  us  to  God  as  from  God  to  us,  —  of  which  a 
believing  man  is  not  insensible,  but  toward  which  his 
position  is  more  that  of  a  passive  recipient.  It  is  God's 
goodness,  like  the  daylight's  gladness,  thrown  on  and 
around  him  to  lighten  up  his  life.  It  is  a  promise 
which,  to  a  thoughtful  man,  is  very  precious.  Prosper- 
ity without  God's  favor  in  it  is  less  than  nothing  ;  but 
if  God's  loving-kindness  be  there,  it  is  better  than  life. 
It  brings  with  it  the  assurance  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  good  to  the  man. 

It  secures  this,  in  the  beginning,  that  he  shall  have 
strength  for  every  day's  duty.  There  will  be  light  to 
guide  him  in  all  his  walk,  and  grace  to  help  him  in 
all  his  work.  It  secures  next,  that  prosperity  shall 
not  injure  him,  —  "the  sun  shall  not  smite  him  by 
day."     If  it  be  God's  gentleness  which  has  made  him 


260 


great,  that  gentleness  shall  dwell  also  within,  and  make 
him  able  to  say,  "  Lord,  my  heart  is  not  haughty,  nor 
mine  eyes  lofty,"  and  that  times  may  come  when  a 
man  must  take  up  such  language  in  the  sight  of  God 
against  accusers,  no  one  who  reads  the  words  of  Job 
or  David  or  Paul,  not  to  speak  of  Christ  himself,  can 
doubt.  This  loving-kindness  secures,  still  further,  that 
prosperity  shall  have  its  true  enjoyment.  God's  love 
gives  to  a  man  the  very  life  of  life,  and  bestows  on  the 
day  that  light  of  which  the  poet  speaks,  —  "  a  brighter 
light  than  ever  shone  on  sea  or  shore."  Every  bless- 
ing, every  happy  affection,,  every  tender  touch  of 
kindred  souls,  is  a  drop  from  the  river  of  life,  and  a 
foretaste  of  the  fountain-head.  If  we  possess  it  let  us  be 
glad,  and,  if  we  have  lost  it,  let  us  still  be  glad,  for 
the  gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without  repentance. 
These,  too,  like  our  friends,  are  not  lost,  but  gone 
before.  There  are  some  who  tremble  when  they  look 
back  on  past  hours  of  joy,  and  bear  contrition  for  their 
too  great  happiness,  as  Job  sacrificed  for  his  sons  when 
they  feasted,  but  if  God's  loving-kindness  was  there, 
the  daylight  was  good  and  pure,  and  it  has  done  its 
part.  It  has  strengthened  the  heart  for  trial,  filled  it 
with  happy  memories,  and  given  it  power  to  cherish 
happier  hopes.  If  we  are  children  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  we  need  retain  no  fear,  because  we  have  had 
our  hearts  made  joyful  by  the  Father  of  lights. 

It  might  seem  as  if  there  were  nothing  better  than 
this,  a  day  in  which  "  God  commands  his  loving-kind- 
ness ; "  and  yet  the  order  in  which  this  stands,  and  the 
whole  spirit  of  the  Bible,  teach  us  to  look  for  something 
higher   in   night,  when  "  He  gives    his  song."      The 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS    IN    GOD.  261 

loving-kindness  is  God's  goodness  on,  and  around  us, 
the  song  his  goodness  in,  and  passing  through  us.  The 
song  is  the  realizing  of  the  loving-kindness,  —  the  light 
that  shines  around,  entering  into  the  sotil  as  night 
deepens,  and  giving  day  in  its  centre.  It  is  the  pillar 
of  cloud  kindling  up  into  the  pillar  of  fire. 

Those  to  whom  God  draws  near  in  an  agony  of  grief 
understand  this.  If  there  are  hours  in  our  life  when 
we  know  that  there  is  a  living  God  and  an  eternal 
world,  it  is  in  such  a  crisis,  when  we  are  compelled  to 
cling  to  Him  in  the  dark,  and  feel,  as  we  cling,  a 
strength  beneath  that  lifts  us  up.  This  could  never  be 
if  there  were  not  a  God,  and,  I  can  suppose,  that  Christ 
may  permit  death  to  enter  a  home,  and  clelay  his  deliv- 
erance, that  He  may  bring  us  to  this  issue.  Who 
knows  whether  at  Bethany  a  greater  work  was  not 
done  in  the  house  of  mourning,  than  outside  at  the 
grave  ?  It  is  then  that  God  enters  and  heaven  opens, 
and  that  we  know  what  it  is  to  have  strength  in  weak- 
ness, and  peace  in  trouble,  and  to  bear  a  crushing  load, 
and  feel  One  bearing  us.  This  is  God's  way  of  help, 
so  good  for  us,  so  glorifying  to  Himself,  and  whenever 
it  comes,  in  whatever  degree,  it  is  "  his  song  in  the 
night." 

The  song  in  the  night  is  not  only  this  conscious  feel- 
ing, it  is  the  expression  of  it,  to  ourselves  and  others. 
It  may  not  be  loud, —  not  even  whispered  in  words, — 
but  it  is  a  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  that  is  calm 
and  sweet,  that  speaks  often  loudest  when  the  lips  are 
dumb,  and  lets  itself  be  known  by  its  perfume,  like  a 
flower  in  the  dark. 

Where  there  is  song  there  is  the  token  of  freedom 


262  THE   CHANGES   OF   LIFE, 

from  terror.  God's  own  voice  has  hushed  the  soul, 
"  Fear  not,  for  I  am  with  thee,"  till  it  replies,  "  I  will 
fear  none  evil,  for  Thou  art  with  me."  The  song  tells 
of  a  coming  end  to  darkness,  for  there  is  prophecy  in  it, 
and  wherever  there  is  this  deepest  harmony  —  the 
heart  at  one  with  God  in  sorrow —  the  highest  hope  is 
never  far  away.  It  comes  like  those  faithful  women  to 
the  sepulchre,  in" the  morning  while  it  is  yet  dark,  and 
finds  to  its  wonder  a  risen  Lord. 

If  you  search  the  history  of  God's  dealings  you  will 
find  that  it  has  been  his  manner  to  give  these  songs  in 
the  deepest  night  to  those  who  look  to  Him.  In  the 
time  of  Job,  He  was  known  as  "  God  our  maker,  who 
giveth  songs  in  the  night."  Asaph  remembered  his 
"  song  in  the  night,  when  he  communed  with  his  heart ;" 
and  what  are  David's  psalms  in  trouble,  but  songs  when 
God  made  "  the  very  night  to  be  light  about  him  "  ? 
Paul  and  Silas  found  it  in  prison,  when  "  they  prayed 
and  sang  praises  at  midnight,  and  the  prisoners  heard 
them,"  for  He  in  whom  they  trusted  made  his  comforts 
come  gliding  like  his  own  angels,  through  the  prison 
bars,  till  strange  sounds  of  song,  such  as  dungeons 
had  not  known  before,  came  floating  to  the  wondering 
listeners.  In  privation,  in  bereavement,  in  desertion, 
in  death,  these  utterances  of  confidence  in  God  are 
written  down  for  us.  In  the  night  of  trial  He  has  filled 
the  history  of  his  church  as  full  of  songs  beneath  as  of 
stars  of  promise  above.  They  console  the  hearts  of  the 
singers  and  they  rise  to  join  the  songs  of  the  morning 
stars,  —  to  announce  that  a  ransomed  company  is 
marching  through  the  gloom,  anticipating  the  time 
when  they  too  "  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sor- 
row and  sighing  shall  flee  away." 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS    IN   GOD.  263 

The  third  and  last  thought  is,  that  there  is  a  con- 
stant DUTY  ON  OUR  PART  AMID  ALL. 

"  And  my  prayer  unto  the  God  of  my  life  ! "  If  we 
are  to  be  safe  in  these  changes,  and  to  share  these 
Divine  provisions,  here  are  the  means.  "  Life "  — 
some  one  has  said  —  "is  a  constant  want,  therefore  it 
should  be  a  constant  prayer."  It  is  not  that  we  are 
to  sublimate  this  duty  into  one  unvaried  feeling,  and 
to  withdraw  it  from  every  act  of  time  and  place,  —  for 
those  who  do  so  must  be  more  than  common  men,  if 
prayer,  as  a  feeling,  does  not  soon  droop  and  die.  The 
day  and  the  night  call  upon  us  to  sanctify  each,  by  its 
own  form  to  God,  and  some  days  and  nights  in  their 
temptations  and  sorrows  demand  those  wrestlings  that 
have  power  with  God  to  prevail.  Let  us  never  forget 
that  the  Saviour  of  the  world  found  it  needful  so  to 
cry  to  his  Father,  and  that  the  world's  redemption 
passed  through  its  crisis  in  an  act  of  special  prayer. 
If  our  hours  of  sorrow  lead  to  such  outpourings  of 
heart,  we  are  on  our  way  to  the  songs  of  the  night. 
To  pray  truly,  is  to  praise.  Therefore  in  such  supreme 
moments  of  our  being,  let  us  "  stir  ourselves  up  to 
take  hold  of  God." 

But  neither  are  we  to  confine  the  prayer  within  such 
limits.  Those  who  are  most  earnest  and  deep  at  cen- 
tral points  will  spread  most  widely  the  feeling  of  prayer 
all  through  time.  The  throb  of  the  heart  will  pulsate 
to  the  extremity,  and  prayer  will  be  like  the  movement 
of  life  which  beats  so  constantly,  because  it  is  a  dying 
and  reviving  in  every  pulse-stroke.  The  essence  of 
this  feeling  is  dependence  upon  God.  It  is  a  depend- 
ence that  is  reverent  and  yet  loving,  reasonable  and 
yet  childlike,  that  is  not  inconsistent  with  action,  nay, 


264  THE    CHANGES   OF   LIFE, 

that  is  impious  and  vain,  unless  it  is  breathing  its  life 
into  every  fitting  duty.  It  will  put  the  question,  "  What 
wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do  ?  "  and  be  ready  to  work  by 
day,  or  watch  by  night,  as  He  may  give  the  word. 
"  Lord,  teach  us  so  to  pray  ?  " 

It  is  to  the  "  God  of  our  life."  The  God  is  it  not  of 
all  our  life,  of  every  day  and  night,  —  who  orders  them, 
and  bids  them  come  and  go  as  He  orders  light  and 
darkness  to  flicker  over  the  face  of  the  earth  ?  To 
Him  we  pray,  for  "  all  our  times  are  in  his  hand."  It 
is  to  the  God  of  the  great  movements  of  our  life.  When 
all  the  joy,  or,  still  more,  all  the  agony,  is  gathered 
into  one  cup,  and  we  are  bidden  drink,  and  He  is  seen 
to  hold  it  in  his  hand,  what  can  we  do  but  pray  to  Him 
then  ?  "  God  of  my  life,  to  Thee  I  call."  It  is  to  the 
God  of  our  eternal  life,  and  bitter  without  any  sweet 
that  cup  would  be,  and  cruel  the  hand  that  pressed  it 
to  our  lips,  if  we  could  not  add  this  —  God  of  our  eter- 
nal life !  It  is  this  that  more  than  accounts  for  the 
agony,  and  this  that  summons  to  unfailing  prayer. 
For,  apart  from  the  promises  of  his  own  Word,  and 
the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  may  argue  that  the 
God  who  sends  such  agony  on  human  hearts,  must  have 
a  great  purpose  beyond,  which  will  justify  Him  before 
his  universe,  and  that  the  God  who  admits  a  creature 
to  speak  to  Him,  and  gives  comfort  and  joy  in  the 
thought  of  his  own  fellowship,  cannot  remand  that 
creature  to  everlasting  forgetfulness.  Here,  suffering 
and  prayer  meet  and  clasp  hands  around  eternal  life, 
and  Him  who  is  the  God  of  it. 

We  can  never  but  think  that  these  men  of  old,  who 
so  wrestled  with  sorrow,  in  the  power  of  prayer,  had 
that  faith  which  made  them  feel  that  death  is  not  an 


AND   THEIR   COMFORTS   IN   GOD.  265 

eternal  farewell  to  God.  It  is  surely  the  first  instinct 
of  any  life  to  cling  to  its  own  preservation,  and  shall 
this  not  be  true  of  the  life  which  is  Divine  ?  And  we, 
who  have  a  clearer  light,  or  rather  life  brought  to  light, 
shall  we  not  feel  it  more  ?  My  prayer  to  the  God  of 
my  eternal  life  !  In  such  times  our  prayer  should  be 
that  He,  who  is  proving  Himself  a  Father  to  our  spirits, 
may  make  this  highest  life  his  care  and  ours,  that  the 
rending  of  our  dearest  earthly  affections  may  bind  us 
closer  to  Him  who  can  heal  them  again,  and  that,  over 
the  graves  of  our  lost  and  longed  for,  we  may  have  a 
firmer  hold  of  that  God  who  is  "  the  God  not  of  the 
dead,  but  of  the  living." 

If  happiness  be  the  end  of  life,  as  some  would  tell 
us,  life  in  this  world  is  a  great  and  manifest  failure. 
But,  if  it  be  something  more  —  if  it  be  to  train  the  soul 
in  reverence,  and  faith,  and  obedience  to  God  —  then, 
with  much  that  is  dark  we  have  some  light  on  our  way 
through  the  terrible  mysteries  which  surround  us. 
Let  us  pursue  our  way  with  this  guide,  —  "  My  prayer 
to  the  God  of  my  life,"  humbly  trusting  in,  and  follow- 
ing Him  who  struggled  in  the  deepest  darkness  for  us. 
Be  sure  that  they  who  follow  Him  must  come  to  the 
light  of  life.  If  we  have  meanwhile  day,  we  shall  have 
that  loving-kindness  which  makes  it  doubly  bright,  and 
in  the  deepest  night  we  shall  not  be  hopeless,  but  cher- 
ish that  "  song  in  the  night"  which  comes  as  "  when 
a  holy  solemnity  is  kept "  (Isa.  xxx.  29)  —  a  deep  res- 
ignation to  the  supreme  will  that  waits  for  the  morn- 
ing, which  must  come  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  —  and 
for  melodies,  which  shall  not  be  low  in  the  heart,  but 
loud  and  joyful  on  the  tongue,  for  "  those  that  dwell  in 
the  dust  shall  awake  and  sing." 


XVI. 


Ife  wsph  and  to   flpnntfwto  nf  ffradta. 

"  When  I  consider  thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the 
moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou  hast  ordained ;  what  is  man  that 
thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest 
him  /  "  —  Psalm  viii.  3,  4. 


fHERE  is  an  objection  raised  by  some  against 
Scripture,  that  the  language  in  which  it  speaks 
of  the  earth  and  its  relation  to  the  heavenly 
bodies,  of  the  sun  and  his  rising  and  setting,  is  incon- 
sistent with  the  theory  of  the  world  as  established  by 
modern  astronomy.  This  objection  is  so  superficial 
that  it  scarcely  needs  to  be  adverted  to.  The  Bible, 
while  it  professes  to  be  Divine  in  its  origin,  professes 
as  distinctly  to  be  human  in  its  mode  of  address.  It 
comes,  like  its  great  subject,  in  the  likeness  of  men, 
and  uses  their  ordinary  speech.  It  could  not  do  other- 
wise without  antedating  all  science,  and  making  itself 
a  revelation  of  material  as  well  as  of  spiritual  truth. 
This  is  not  its  object,  for  although,  as  we  believe, 
it  does  not  come  into  collision  with  the  true  deductions 
of  science,  it  has  the  one  ever-present  aim  of  bringing 


THE   GOSPEL.  267 

the  soul  of  man  into  connection  with  God  and  the 
eternal  world,  and  of  delivering  him  from  that  sin 
which  is  at  once  his  crime  and  his  punishment.  To 
do  this  in  a  way  suited  to  every  country  and  every 
stage  of  human  progress,  is  the  grand  mission  of  the 
Word  of  God,  and  those  men  betray  not  their  breadth 
but  their  narrowness,  and  the  vain  conceit  of  a  little 
knowledge,  who  would  have  had  the  Bible  adopt  the 
nomenclature  of  schools  instead  of  the  common  lan- 
guage of  humanity. 

But  there  is  another  objection  much  deeper  than 
this,  and  deserving  of  a  more  careful  consideration. 
In  some  form  it  must  have  presented  itself  to  every 
thoughtful  mind,  and  excited  the  various  feelings  that 
rise  from  doubt  up  to  wonder  and  adoring  gratitude. 
The  language  of  the  Psalmist  here  shows  us,  that  some 
of  those  questions  which  still  perplex  us  in  seeking  to 
bring  God's  truth  into  one  consistent  whole,  have  been 
raised  long  ago,  and  are  as  old  as  the  soul  of  man. 
The  Psalmist  could  have  had  but  a  small  conception 
of  the  magnitude  of  creation  as  compared  with  that 
which  dawns  on  us  through  the  power  of  the  telescope 
and  the  calculations  of  astronomy,  but  the  insignifi- 
cance of  man  as  the  subject  of  Divine  interposition  and 
care,  filled  him  with  wonder  and  awe.  Amid  the 
amazing  extension  of  our  knowledge  of  the  universe 
through  the  discoveries  of  modern  science,  this  wonder 
has  taken  the  form  of  an  objection  against  the  gospel, 
openly  expressed  by  some,  and  felt  in  different  degrees 
by  many  more.  It  is  that  the  gospel  revelation  is  out 
of  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  creation,  as  now 
certainly  known.     Before   attempting  in  any  way  to 


268  THE   GOSPEL,    AND    THE 

meet  it,  it  may  be  necessary  to  set  forth  the  difficulty 
more  in  detail. 

Modern  astronomy  has  taught  us  that  our  earth, 
which  was  once  reckoned  the  centre  of  the  universe,  is 
no  more  than  one  of  a  sisterhood  of  planets  revolving 
round  a  common  sun,  and  one  which  is  very  small, 
compared  with  other  globes  of  the  same  system.  There 
are  some  of  those  planets  that  surpass  it  in  size  many 
hundred  times,  and  the  sun  round  which  we  revolve, 
and  which,  for  aught  we  know,  may  be  the  scene  of 
life,  exceeds  it  beyond  all  comparison.  Outside  our 
solar  system,  there  are  those  constellations  where 
every  luminous  point  may  be,  and  probably  is,  the 
centre  of  a  system  of  its  own,  filled  with  vast  and 
varied  being.  Beyond  these  visible  stars,  which  seem 
like  the  first  mile-stones  in  trackless  space,  there  is  the 
faint  light  called  the  Milky  Way,  which,  by  the  aid  of 
the  telescope,  can  be  resolved  into  masses  of  stars,  so 
distant  from  us,  that  a  ray  of  light  from  them  would 
require  thousands  of  years  to  reach  us.  The  Milky 
Way  is,  with  good  reason,  supposed  to  be  the  outer 
bound  of  that  great  stellary  congregation  to  which  all 
the  visible  stars  belong,  including  our  own  sun.  But 
in  the  depths  of  space,  immeasurably  beyond  the  Milky 
Way,  there  are  systems  and  groups  of  systems  as  large 
as,  or  larger  than,  the  whole  field  of  creation  already 
noticed.  Our  own  galaxy  is  but  a  unit  among  many 
more.  Beyond  it,  there  are. others  so  distant  that,  as 
a  celebrated  astronomer  (Sir  John  Herschel)  states, 
"  the  rays  of  light  from  some  remoter  nehulce  must 
have  been  two  millions  of  years  on  their  way."  In  the 
presence  of  such  conceptions,  thought  is  powerless. 


MAGNITUDE   OF   CREATION.  269 

If  we  can  realize  all  this  as  the  product  of  one  mind, 
how  does  it  magnify  our  idea  of  it !  How  great  the 
Being  who  not  only  comprehends  all  these  worlds  at  a 
glance,  but  who  made  them,  sustains  them,  and  more 
than  fills  them  !  "  Behold  the  heaven,  and  heaven  of 
heavens  cannot  contain  Thee." 

Over  against  this  view  of  the  universe,  we  may  set, 
in  few  words,  the  gospel  revelation.  It  tells  us  that  in 
one  of  these  worlds,  insignificant  in  magnitude  com- 
pared with  many,  God  has  interposed  in  behalf  of  a 
race  of  sinful  beings,  in  a  manner  which,  in  some 
respects,  must  stand  unparalleled  and  alone.  He  first 
opened  a  communication  with  them  as  fallen,  and  then 
entered  into  a  union  mysteriously  intimate.  That  He 
may  gain  great  spiritual  ends,  He  sustains  at  once  the 
relation  of  Sovereign  and  subject,  Judge  and  sufferer. 
He  not  only  touches,  but  takes  upon  Him  the  fallen 
nature  —  vindicates  the  eternal  law  of  justice  —  con- 
demns the  sin,  and  makes  provision  for  the  restoration 
to  pardon,  purity,  and  Divine  life,  of  myriads  of  the 
rebellious  race.  The  revolt  is  destined  to  be  put  down, 
and  the  world  which  seemed  lost  to  its  allegiance  is 
to  be  finally  reconquered  to  the  Divine  kingdom,  and 
made  the  seat  of  holiness  and  happiness.  It  may  be 
put  briefly  in  the  words  of  Scripture,  "  God  so  loved 
the  world  that  He  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish  but  have 
everlasting  life."  "  And  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
shall  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of  his 
Christ ;  and  He  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  two  views  of  God  pre- 
sented here,  of  his  greatness  in  the  material,  and  of 


270  THE   GOSPEL,   AND   THE 

his  love  ill  the  spiritual,  world,  stand  wide  apart,  and 
that  the  attempt  to  hold  them  together  in  thought  may 
well  overpower  us.  But  though  we  could  not  offer  a 
single  consideration  fitted  to  reconcile  them,  it  should 
be  remembered  that  it  is  of  God  that  we  are  speaking, 
and  that  an  infinite  nature  must  present  aspects  which 
diverge  far  apart  from  each  other,  —  which  become,  if 
we  may  so  say,  utterly  unlike.  The  Bible  is  not 
taken  by  surprise  in  this,  for  though  its  writers  had 
not  that  knowledge  of  God's  creation  which  we  have, 
they  had  that  inspired  conception  of  his  grandeur 
which  is  worthy  of  it,  and  they  felt  how  marvellous 
this  makes  his  interposition  in  behalf  of  man.  It  filled 
them  not,  indeed,  with  unbelief,  but  with  wonder  and 
awe. 

It  should  be  remembered,  moreover,  that  both  of 
these  views  of  God  come  before  us  on  their  own  dis- 
tinct evidence,  and  must  be  tested  by  it.  Different 
sciences,  which  seem  at  first  discordant,  advance  at 
last  to  join  hands  in  reconciliation,  and  religion,  which 
springs  from  the  basis  of  the  spiritual,  may  appear  for 
a  while  in  strange  contrast,  or  even  conflict,  with  the 
discoveries  of  the  material  universe,  and  yet  be  found 
in  the  end  to  be  in  full  harmony  with  them. 

One  more  remark  may  be  made  as  a  preliminary, 
that  science,  as  far  as  it  has  gone,  and  we  may  confi- 
dently say  as  far  as  it  can  go,  is  unable  to  take  the  place 
of  religion.  It  cannot  supply  religion's  consolations, 
and  it  can  offer  no  substitute  for  its  hopes.  Till  it  can 
do  this,  or  till  these  consolations  and  hopes  are  no 
more  needed,  science  can  never  supplant  it.  Religion 
may  have  its  forms  of  expression  touched  and  modified 


MAGNITUDE   OF   CREATION.  271 

here  and  there,  but  it  cannot  have  its  life  impaired 
until  man  ceases  to  feel  that  he  has  a  soul.  If  science 
could  destroy  the  lights  which  religion  holds  up  in  the 
history  of  man,  it  would  be  found  not  only  to  have  in- 
flicted the  greatest  wrong  on  humanity,  but  to  have 
assailed  the  very  spring,  and  quenched  the  attractions, 
of  its  own  progress  —  for  the  highest  thought  connect- 
ed with  science  is  that  in  its  paths  we  are  following  the 
footsteps  of  a  universal  mind,  and  beginning  a  course 
of  inquiry  which  is  eternal  as  it  is  infinite.  Science 
would  then  be  the  blind  giant  tearing  down  the  pillars 
of  the  temple,  and  crushing  with  itself  in  the  ruins, 
not  its  enemies,  but  its  friends. 

We  come  now  more  directly  to  the  objection  that 
has  been  taken  to  the  gospel  from  the  vastness  of  cre- 
ation as  displayed  in  astronomy.  So  far  as  we  can 
see,  that  objection  takes  one  of  two  shapes,  —  either 
that  man,  looked  at  in  the  light  of  such  a  universe,  is  too 
insignificant  for  this  interposition;  or,  that  Grod  is  too 
far  above  us  to  expect  such  an  interposition  from  Sim. 
We  shall  consider  these  two  forms  of  objection  in 
order. 

I.  As  regards  man,  the  professed  aim  of  the  gospel 
is  his  deliverance  from  spiritual  error  and  sin,  and  his 
introduction  to  that  which  alone  can  satisfy  the  wants 
of  his  nature,  the  favor  and  fellowship  of  the  God  who 
made  him.  This  is  a  sphere  of  action  entirely  different 
from  astronomy,  and,  at  its  very  first  step,  as  much 
higher  as  mind  is  above  matter.  It  is  the  presence  of 
life,  above  all,  of  intelligent  life,  which  gives  signifi- 
cance to  creation,  and  which  stands,  like  the  positive 


272  THE   GOSPEL,    AND   THE 

digit  in  arithmetic,  before  all  its  blank  ciphers.  The 
most  beautiful  landscape  wants  its  chief  charm  till  we 
see,  or  fancy  in  it,  the  home  of  man. 

This  may  be  charged  as  egotism,  but  it  is  the  law  of 
our  being  by  which  we  must  judge  the  world.  We 
must  look  out  on  God's  universe  with  the  eyes  and 
heart  that  its  Maker  has  bestowed  upon  us,  and  we 
must  believe  that  they  were  meant  to  guide  us  truly. 
The  eras  of  geology  receive  their  interest  as  they  be- 
come instinct  with  animation,  and  as  they  foreshadow 
the  entrance  of  the  intelligent  mind,  which  was  at  last 
to  appear  among  them  to  be  their  interpreter.  It  is 
the  reason  of  man  which  has  reconstructed  them  out 
of  their  dead  ashes.  It  is  that  same  reason  which 
gives  to  the  present  living  world  all  that  it  has  of 
meaning  and  of  unity.  The  forms  of  beauty  and  gran- 
deur which  matter  puts  on  are  only  the  clothing  fur- 
nished by  mind.  The  Alps  and  Andes  are  but  millions 
of  atoms  till  thought  combines  them,  and  stamps  on 
them  the  conception  of  the  everlasting  hills.  Niagara 
is  a  gush  of  water-drops  till  the  soul  puts  into  it  that 
sweep  of  resistless  power  which  the  beholder  feels. 
The  ocean,  wave  behind  wave,  is  only  great  when  the 
spirit  has  breathed  into  it  the  idea  of  immensity.  If 
we  analyze  our  own  feelings,  we  shall  find  that  thought 
meets  us  wherever  we  turn.  The  real  grandeur  of  the 
world  is  in  the  soul  which  looks  on  it,  which  sees  some 
conception  of  its  own  reflected  from  the  mirror  around 
it,  —  for  mind  is  not  only  living  but  life-giving,  and 
has  received  from  its  Maker  a  portion  of  his  own  crea- 
tive power.  It  breathes  into  dead  matter  the  breath  of 
life,  and  "  it  becomes  a  living  soul." 


MAGNITUDE    OF    CREATION.  273 

It  is  not  merely  the  great  masters  of  thought  who 
possess  this  power,  but  the  capacity  is  in  every  mind 
which  makes  it  kindred  to  the  greatest,  and  which 
separates  it  by  an  infinite  gulf  from  matter.  "  Man," 
Pascal  says,  "  is  a  feeble  reed,  trembling  in  the  midst 
of  creation  ;  but  then  he  is  endowed  with  thought.  It 
does  not  need  the  universe  to  arm  for  his  destruction. 
A  breath  of  wind,  a  drop  of  water  will  suffice  to  kill 
him.  But,  though  the  universe  were  to  fall  on  man 
and  crush  him,  he  would  be  greater  in  his  death,  than 
the  universe  in  its  victory  ;  for  he  would  be  conscious 
of  his  defeat,  and  it  would  not  be  conscious  of  its  tri- 
umph "  (Pensees  xviii.  11). 

The  very  discoveries  of  astronomy  which  disclose 
the  vastness  of  the  material  creation,  are,  in  another 
form,  testimonies  to  the  greatness  of  man's  mind.  In 
every  step  of  progress,  the  discoverer  is  above  the 
discovery.  It  is  mind  which  travels  from  star  to  star, 
which  measures  them  in  mass  and  distance,  and  which, 
when  it  has  traversed  them,  can  comprise  them  all, 
and  more  than  them  all,  in  a  single  thought.  It  can 
rise  above  them,  and  pass  beyond  them,  into  infinity 
and  eternity.  So  far,  then,  from  these  discoveries 
leading  us  to  believe  that  God  will  do  less  for  man,  they 
may  incline  us  to  the  hope  that  He  will  do  more. 

The  mind  of  man  receives  a  further  dignity  when  we 
turn  from  its  power  over  the  material  to  its  capacity  in 
the  moral  world.  It  is  able  to  conceive  and  to  reason 
from  those  distinctions  of  truth  and  falsehood,  right 
and  wrong,  good  and  evil,  which  underlie  and  govern 
the  spiritual  world,  as  the  laws  of  mathematics  do  the 
material.     It  feels  that  there  is  something  here  which 

18 


274  THE   GOSPEL,    AND   THE 

is  as  universal  as  mind,  and  more  enduring,  not  only 
than  the  forms  of  matter,  but  than  its  substance.  We 
can  think  the  material  universe  out  of  being,  and  we 
believe  there  was  a  time  when  it  did  not  exist,  but  the 
true,  the  right,  the  good,  must  be  conceived  in  thought, 
and  held  in  faith,  to  be  unchangeable  and  eternal. 
Here,  if  anywhere,  mind  grasps  the  absolute  and  infi- 
nite, and,  because  it  is  able  to  do  this,  it  holds  rank 
above  the  highest  things  that  eye  can  see,  or  heart 
conceive,  in  the  physical  creation. 

To  this  dignity  of  mind  derived  from  its  power  of 
thought,  we  have  to  add  its  value  in  the  light  of  im- 
mortality. Though  the  material  universe  as  a  whole 
will  never  cease  to  exist,  it  is  yet  subject  in  every  part 
to  change  and  decay,  —  while  the  sonl  lives  on,  unal- 
tered in  conscious  identity,  binding  the  present  to  the 
past,  and  the  future  to  the  present,  in  a  continuous 
chain  for  ever.  If  there  be  in  matter,  as  we  look  up 
through  the  worlds,  what  seems  an  infinite  of  space, 
there  is  in  mind  a  real  infinite  of  time,  and  a  power  of 
growth  in  thought  and  feeling  and  enjoyment,  which 
consists  not,  like  the  growth  of  matter,  in  alternate 
birth  and  death,  but  in  an  evermore  living  life,  welling 
upward,  and  swelling  outward,  in  approach  to  the  in- 
finite and  ever-blessed  God.  We  may  agree  with  Au- 
gustine, who  says,  "  There  is  but  one  object  greater 
than  the  soul,  and  that  one  its  Creator ;  "«and  we  may 
reason  very  fitly,  that  if  it  was  worthy  of  God  to  create 
such  a  being  at  first,  it  is  worthy  of  Him  to  care  for  it 
afterwards,  and  to  seek  its  progress  and  happiness 
with  all  the  means  at  his  disposal,  that  is,  with  a  pow- 
er and  wisdom  and  goodness  which  are  unlimited. 


MAGNITUDE  OF  CREATION.  275 

We  may  reason,  farther,  that  it  cannot  be  considered 
unworthy  of  God  to  interpose  super  naturally  for  such 
an  end.  The  first  origin  of  created  being,  and  of  man, 
must  be  thought  of  as  supernatural  —  as  a  step  on  the 
part  of  Divine  power  beyond  what  was  previously  ex- 
istent. Why  should  there  not  be  another  such  inter- 
position to  create  man  anew,  and  raise  him  to  true 
spiritual  life  ?  The  denial  of  this  would  consistently 
lead  to  the  denial  of  a  Divine  act  of  creation,  and,  in- 
deed, to  the  denial  of  God's  personality,  with  which 
consequences  we  do  noi  here  deal.  But  if  we  believe 
in  a  God  who  created  the  world  and  made  man  in  it, 
it  is  surely  reasonable  to  believe  also  that  He  will  guide 
his  work  to  its  proper  end,  and  that  the  highest  part 
of  man's  nature  will  not  be  left  to  neglect.  A  dignified 
idea  of  either  God  or  man  will  not  incline  us  to  believe 
that  things  are  abandoned  to  chance-hazard  here.  If 
we  see  God  exerting  his  power  and  wisdom  in  multi- 
plying and  adorning  forms  of  dead  matter  —  if  we  be- 
hold Him  piling  them  in  heaven-soaring  mountains, 
brightening  them  into  resplendent  suns,  and  scattering 
them  through  space  in  infinitely  varied  combinations, 
—  it  is  not  too  much  to  expect  that  He  will  exert  these 
same  attributes  in  retrieving  from  loss  and  in  raising 
to  fresh  spiritual  power  that  immortal  mind  which  is 
the  true  image  of  Himself — which  alone  of  all  his 
works  can  comprehend  Him,  and  can  return  the  ex- 
pressions of  his  intelligence  and  love. 

So  far  from  what  God  has  done  for  the  world  of 
matter,  in  the  fields  of  astronomy,  being  any  reason 
for  discrediting  what  the  gospel  declares  He  has  done 
for  the  world  of  mind  in  man,  it  should  be  a  reason  for 


276  THE   GOSPEL,   AND   THE 

believing  it.  If  He  has  lavished  so  much  of  pains  and 
skill  upon  a  universe  of  death,  what  may  we  not  antici- 
pate for  one  of  life  ?  If  He  has  expended  so  much 
upon  the  mere  pedestal  and  platform  of  being,  what 
upon  the  thinking  immortal  spirit,  on  whose  account 
alone  the  basement  and  outer  furniture  of  the  world 
are  there  ?  Belief  in  the  gospel  will  become  an  easier 
thing  to  us  in  proportion  as  we  realize  the  greatness  of 
the  soul,  and  breathe  the  air  of  eternity. 

Still,  we  can  imagine  an  objection  rising  to  all  this 
in  the  minds  of  some.  It  may  be  urged  that  it  is  not 
a  fair  statement  of  the  case  to  compare  mind  in  this 
world  with  matter  in  the  worlds  of  astronomy,  for  it  is 
rational  to  suppose  that  mind  exists  there  as  well  as 
here.  The  difficulty,  it  may  be  said,  lies  in  this,  that 
God  should  have  done  so  much  for  mind  in  our  globe 
as  compared  with  what  has  been  done  for  it  in  other 
regions  of  his  universe. 

A  very  sufficient  answer  to  this  is,  that  ours  is  the 
only  world  with  the  inhabitants  and  circumstances  of 
which  we  are  acquainted,  and  therefore  the  only  one 
regarding  which  we  can  form  any  judgment.  The 
nearest  of  the  heavenly  bodies  to  our  own  (the  moon) 
is  to  all  appearance  uninhabited,  and  what  stage  other 
worlds  may  have  reached,  in  the  great  march  of  being, 
it  is  impossible  for  us  even  to  conjecture.  We  learn 
from  our  earth's  history  that  long  eras  roll  on  before 
the  highest  state  is  reached,  if  indeed  we  have  readied 
it,  and  whether  these  other  worlds  are  behind  or  before 
us  in  the  scale  must  remain  for  ever  unknown  in  our 
present  condition.  Granted  that  they  are  the  spheres 
of  intelligent  and  responsible  mind,  it  is  equally  impos- 


MAGNITUDE  OF  CREATION.  277 

sible  to  say  whether,  and  under  what  form,  Divine 
interpositions  may  be  needed  by  them.  God  doubtless 
has  his  manifestations  there  as  well  as  here,  and  in  the 
manner  suited  to  the  nature  and  wants  of  his  creatures. 
Everywhere  "  his  works  praise  Him,  and  his  saints 
bless  Him  ;  "  and  instead  of  reasoning  from  the  wide 
extent  of  his  universe  that  He  will  neglect  any  part, 
it  is  more  consonant  to  infer  that  He  will  care  for 
all.  The  tokens  of  his  presence  among  us,  seen  and 
felt  to  the  lowest  verge  of  being,  lead  to  the  same 
conclusion. 

If  there  be  a  peculiar  manifestation  of  God  to  us,  we 
know  that  there  is  a  peculiar  necessity  to  which  it  is 
adapted.  The  revelation  of  the  great  Father  of  spirits 
in  this  world  is  one  suited  to  a  lapsed  and  sinful  state, 
and  marked,  therefore,  by  that  view  of  his  character 
which  re-assures  the  heart  by  its  infinite  condescension  ; 
but  as  He  never  repeats  Himself  in  this  world,  it  may 
be  expected  that  in  others  He  reveals  Himself  in  infi- 
nitely varied  modes.  Every  star  must  give  up  its 
secret  before  we  have  the  complete  manifestation  of 
God,  and  even  then  we  would  see  but  "  parts  of  his 
ways."  To  compare  and  to  study  these  may  be,  must 
be,  the  work  of  eternity  ;  and,  as  we  wonder  sometimes 
how  a  soul,  growing  on  for  ever,  can  find  fresh  exer- 
cise for  all  its  thoughts  and  activities,  we  may  reach 
the  answer  when  we  look  up  through  the  countless 
hosts  of  the  firmament,  and  feel  that  every  point  of 
light  shall  yet  open  out  into  a  sun,  and  each  one  cast 
its  own  special  illumination  on  the  nature  of  Him  who, 
with  all  our  searching,  cannot  be  found  out  unto  per* 
fection. 


278 

II.  We  come  now  to  the  second  form  which  the 
objection  may  take  —  that  as  the  gospel  revelation  sets 
man  in  a  rank  that  is  too  high,  so  does  it  bring  G-od  too 
low.  Is  it  credible,  it  may  be  asked,  that  the  all-ex- 
tending infinite  Power,  which  these  worlds  on  worlds 
disclose,  can  enter  into  union  with  human  nature,  and 
take  that  place  on  our  earth  which  the  cross  and  the 
grave  of  Jesus  Christ  reveal  ? 

Perhaps  there  may  be  over-boldness  on  both  sides  in 
the  argument  as  to  what  we  may  expect  from  G-od, 
but,  provided  we  do  not  degrade  his  moral  attributes, 
the  presumption  is  likely  to  be  not  in  anticipating  too 
much,  but  too  little.  All  that  we  know  of  God  may 
lead  us  not  to  set  limits  to  any  side  of  his  character, 
and  certainly  it  is  not  the  discoveries  of  astronomy 
which  should  teach  us  so  to  circumscribe  Him.  We 
see  in  the  sky  the  hand  of  a  Being  infinite  in  power 
and  wisdom,  and  is  it  rational,  because  of  this,  to 
restrict  Him  in  his  display  of  goodness  and  mercy  ? 
He  is  so  great  in  the  heights  of  heaven,  therefore  he 
cannot  be  so  great  in  stooping  to  misery  and  sin ! 
This  may  apply  very  well  as  a  standard  to  some  kinds 
of  men,  but  it  is  not  the  standard  for  the  noblest,  and, 
least  of  all,  can  we  take  it  as  a  measuring-line  for  God. 
There  is  more  philosophy  in  the  feeling  of  the  Psalmist 
that  God's  greatness  is  the  measure,  not  of  his  distance 
from,  but  of  his  nearness  to  us.  "As  the  heaven  is, 
high  above  the  earth,  so  great  is  his  mercy  to  them 
that  fear  Him"  (Ps.  ciii.  11). 

In  the  character  of  a  really  great  man,  we  require  a 
balance  of  qualities  to  satisfy  us.  Pascal  has  finely 
said,  "  I  do  not  admire  in  a  man  the  extreme  of  one 


MAGNITUDE    OF   CREATION.  279 

virtue,  as  of  valor,  if  I  do  not  see  at  the  same  time 
the  extreme  of  the  opposite  virtue,  as  in  Epaminondas, 
who  had  the  extreme  of  valor  and  the  extreme  of 
gentleness.  For  otherwise  this  character  would  not 
rise,  but  fall,  by  the  excess  of  the  one  side.  A  man 
shows  true  greatness,  not  by  touching  one  extreme, 
but  by  touching  both  at  once,  and  filling  up  the 
interval"  (Pensees  xxv.  9). 

This  is  a  principle  which  we  are  justly  warranted  in 
applying  to  God.  In  astronomy  we  see  Him  touching 
the  extremity  of  omnipotence,  and,  if  his  character  is 
not  to  be  one-sided,  we  may  expect  to  see  Him  touching, 
in  some  other  work,  the  extremity  of  love.  We  shall 
seek  it  vainly  all  through  creation,  if  we  do  not  meet 
with  it  in  the  gospel.  There  we  believe  it  is  to  be  dis- 
covered, and  a  depth  of  sympathizing  tenderness  is 
revealed,  which  is  a  full  and  fitting  counterpoise,  and 
which  can  be  set  over  against  that  height  of  awful 
majesty.  By  how  much  then  the  mind  of  man  ex- 
tends the  scale  and  weights  the  balance  on  the  side 
of  power,  by  so  much  is  a  sphere  of  action  needed 
which  can  show  us  corresponding  mercy ;  and  the 
gospel  of  Christ  becomes  then  a  suitable,  we  may 
almost  say  an  indispensable,  complement  in  any  perfect 
manifestation  of  the  nature  of  G-od. 

Thus  it  would  be,  even  if  we  were  to  place  the 
material  and  the  moral  on  the  same  level  of  impor- 
tance, but  the  argument  becomes  stronger,  when  we 
consider  how  much  the  moral  rises  above  the  material. 
We  may  expect  that  God's  revelation  of  Himself  will 
be  in  a  similar  proportion.  Every  man  who  can  think 
will  acknowledge  that  intellect  is  superior  to  physical 


280  THE   GOSPEL,    AND   THE 

strength,  and  that -purity  and  goodness  are  superior  to 
mere  intellect.  As  society  progresses,  and  the  world 
grows  wiser,  this  standard  of  judgment  is  more  and 
more  adopted.  Nimrod  and  Achilles  had  the  place  of 
honor  in  the  earliest  ages,  but  as  time  rolled  on  mind 
became  pre-eminent,  and  men  read  Homer  to  admire, 
not  the  hero,  but  the  poet.  If  Napoleon  is  the  object 
of  admiration  yet,  it  is  as  the  embodiment  of  intel- 
lectual energy ;  and  his  hard  selfishness,  his  want  of 
truthfulness  and  justice,  are  constantly  reducing  him 
to  a  lower  place  as  a  man  of  heroic  mould.  There  is 
an  attempt  being  made  in  our  day  to  bring  back  the 
worship  of  force,  and  to  make  men  fall  down  in 
adoration  of  its  brief  success,  even  when  it  is  devoted 
to  the  most  selfish  ends.  But  it  only  shows  how 
miserably  blind  intellect  becomes,  when  it  loses  sight 
of  a  guiding  moral  principle  in  the  universe,  and  how, 
when  the  higher  lights  that  are  in  God  are  forgotten, 
men  stumble  in  the  practical  rule  of  life.  Weak  as 
human  nature  is,  and  fascinated  by  false  glitter,  it  is 
gradually  and  surely  advancing  to  estimate  men  by 
the  unselfishness  of  purpose  which  they  display. 
Genius  directed  to  evil,  or  squandered  on  vanity,  loses 
its  power  to  charm,  and  the  involuntary  tribute  is 
given  to  fortitude  in  adversity,  to  self-sacrificing  labor 
for  the  good  of  others,  and  to  the  life  which  forgets 
itself  in  the  presence  of  danger  or  death,  for  the 
service  of  humanity.  Our  deepest  and  truest  instincts 
tell  us  that  these  things  make  the  real  hero,  and  that 
power  and  genius  are  never  so  great  as  when,  with 
noble  unconsciousness,  they  stoop  to  lift  the  fallen  and 
lost.     Whatever  aberrations  the  spirit  of  a  man  or  an 


MAGNITUDE    OP    CREATION.  281 

age  may  show,  we  must  come  back  to  this  rule  of 
judgment. 

But  if  we  have  such  a  standard  in  the  profoundest 
instincts  of  our  nature,  and  if  the  world  is  ever  more 
advancing  to  the  perception  of  it,  from  whom  did  we 
receive  it,  if  not  from  God,  and  is  it  not  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  the  view  he  gives  us  of  his  own  character 
will  be  formed  upon  it?  Can  we  imagine  that  the 
human  reason  will  ever  rise  so  high  as  to  be  in 
advance  of  Him  who  is  its  original,  and  turn  round 
and  discover  a  God  inferior  to  itself — one  who  was 
anxious  to  impress  his  creatures  more  with  a  sense 
of  his  material  power  than  of  the  features  of  his 
moral  and  spiritual  character  ?  And  yet  take  away 
the  gospel,  and,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  we  should 
have  a  deity  whose  highest  display  was  that  of  phys- 
ical omnipotence.  Could  we  reverence  in  God  that 
which  we  cannot  respect  in  man  ?  It  is  the  gospel 
which  restores  the  harmony  between  the  view  of  God's 
power  and  that  inner  dictate  of  our  nature  which  sets 
the  highest  crown  upon  goodness.  Then  it  is  that  awe 
at  his  power  and  love  of  his  condescension  can  aid 
each  other,  and  both  concentrate  on  Himself. 

We  can  suppose  a  reply  made  that  this  standard  of 
judgment  is  the  result  of  the  reception  of  the  gospel 
among  us,  and  that  we  are  trying  the  case  by  the 
maxims  of  our  own  side. 

It  would  be  to  the  highest  praise  of  the  gospel  if  it 
had  created  such  a  standard,  and  it  is,  indeed,  to  the 
gospel  that  we  chiefly  owe  its  development.  But  he 
takes  a  very  superficial  view  of  human  nature  who  does 
not  believe  that  there  are  essential  moral  intuitions 


282  THE   GOSPEL,   AND   THE 

in  it,  weakened,  it  is  true,  and  perverted  by  sin,  but 
ready  to  be  awakened  and  to  give  their  response  to  the 
Divine  Spirit  when  it  breathes  upon  them.  Deepest 
among  these  is  the  conviction  that  the  pure,  and 
merciful,  and  tender,  are  beautiful,  not  only  in  the 
human,  but  in  the  Divine  —  and  it  is  because  the  gos- 
pel meets  this  feeling  that  we  are  borne  to  it  on  the 
tide  of  all  our  spiritual  sympathies.  The  more  pro- 
foundly and  reverently  we  study  our  inner  nature  and 
the  standard  of  moral  judgment  which  has  been  there 
set  up,  the  more  we  shall  feel  the  need  of  the  revelation 
of  Jesus  Christ  to  give  us  this  full-orbed  view  of  God. 
It  alone  discloses  depths  of  compassion  transcending 
even  those  heights  of  power,  and  points  us  to  a  Being 
who  crowns  his  own  nature,  as  He  crowns  ours  "  with 
loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy." 

When  we  take  this  view  we  see  that  man  has  been 
placed  in  this  world  in  the  midst  of  concentric  circles 
of  Divine  attributes,  which  become  charged  with 
deeper  interest  as  they  press  in  closer  towards  him. 
The  most  distant  is  power,  girdling  the  universe  with 
its  rings  of  stars  and  constellations.  Within  it,  comes 
the  sphere  of  harmonious  wisdom  in  the  orbits  of  the 
planets  and  the  revolutions  of  sun  and  moon,  with 
signs  and  seasons.  When  we  touch  our  own  world, 
we  can  discern  goodness  in  the  varied  tribes  of  being 
in  earth,  and  air,  and  sea.  Justice  enters  in  the  field 
of  human  history,  inspiring  confidence,  and  yet  excit- 
ing awe  when  it  shows  us  the  rise  or  the  ruin  of 
nations,  as  they  abide  by,  or  depart  from,  the  princi- 
ples of  rectitude. 

But  the  inmost  circle  of  fatherly  love  and  forgiving 


MAGNITUDE  OF  CREATION.  283 

mercy  remains  in  the  approach  of  God  to  the  individual 
soul.  Such  a  circle  there  must  be,  and  when  we  feel 
its  clasp  on  our  hearts,  we  learn,  in  the  language  of 
the  poet,  "  that  the  world  is  made  for  each  of  us."  The 
universe  gathers  round  each  single  eye  like  a  broad 
rainbow  arch,  to  let  us  see,  not  the  world  alone,  but 
God,  power  the  outmost  color,  —  mercy  the  nearest, — 
that  every  one  may  be  able  to  look  up  to  Him  without 
dismay.  Take  away  the  inmost  and  deepest  radiance, 
and  then  that  which  is  most  consoling  to  us,  and  most 
glorious  in  Him,  disappears.  One  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful pictures  in  the  whole  range  of  ancient  poetry  is 
when  the  hero  of  Troy  stretches  out  his  arms  to  em- 
brace his  infant  son  before  he  moves  to  the  field  of 
battle.  The  child  shrinks  from  him  in  fear,  "  scared 
by  the  dazzling  helm  and  nodding  crest,"  and  the  ten- 
derness of  the  father's  heart  comes  out  with  a  touch 
of  nature  that  makes  us  feel  it  beating  across  three 
thousand  years :  — 

"  He  hastened  to  relieve  the  child, 
The  glittering  terrors  from  his  brows  unbound, 
And  placed  the  gleaming  helmet  on  the  ground  — 
Then  kissed  the  child." 

And  shall  we  not  feel  it  reasonable  that  the  God  who 
placed  paternal  pity  in  the  heart  of  man  feels  it,  and 
will  take  his  own  way  of  making  us  feel  it,  also  ? 
When  we  are  ready  to  be  crushed  by  the  overwhelm- 
ing greatness  of  that  starry  diadem,  there  must  be 
some  assurance  given  of  God's  compassion  that  shall 
open  for  us  the  door  of  filial  confidence  to  his  heart. 
Were  it  not  for  this,  how  cold  and  stem  would  every 
night  come,  with  its  awful  lights  looking  down  distant 


284  THE   GOSPEL,   AND   THE 

and  silent  on  a  world  of  sin  and  graves  !  Its  thousand 
eyes  would  glitter  pitilessly  on  our  misery,  and  its  fixed 
cycles  would  be  coiled  round  us,  like  chains  of  despair. 
The  arms  of  omnipotence  would  be  dreadful  if  there 
were  no  throb  of  mercy  in  the  breast. 

"  Thou  art  the  mighty  God ! 
This  gleaming  wilderness  of  suns  and  worlds 
Is  an  eternal  and  triumphant  hymn 
Chanted  by  Thee  unto  Thine  own  great  self  ! 
Wrapt  in  Thy  skies  what  were  my  prayers  to  Thee!  " 

The  gospel  is  the  answer  to  this,  and  the  only  suffi- 
cient answer.  When  we  fall  as  dead  at  the  feet  of 
Him  who  has  "  in  his  right  hand  the  seven  stars,"  and 
whose  countenance  is  "  as  the  sun  shining  in  his 
strength,"  He  lays  his  hand  on  us  and  says,  "  Fear 
not,"  and  when  we  look  up  we  meet  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ.  He  discloses  a  second  universe  in  the  soul, 
with  its  depths  of  infinite  yearning  and  heights  of  ca- 
pability, and  shows  the  greatness  that  is  in  man,  by 
touching  human  nature  with  the  Divine  which  is  in 
Himself.  The  man  who,  with  unsealed  eyes  and  hum- 
ble heart,  enters  this  new  world,  perceives  a  growing 
grandeur  worthy  of  all  that  God  has  done  or  can  do 
for  it  —  a  world  that  goes  forward  not  to  death  but  life, 
and  that  even  now  floods  all  the  stars  with  a  purer, 
tenderer  light  than  the  astronomer's  tube  can  reveal. 
The  character  of  God  rises  more  conspicuously  Divine, 
—  love  softening  greatness,  and  greatness  commending 
love.  "  The  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eter- 
nity, and  that  dwells  in  the  high  and  holy  place,  dwell- 
eth  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humble 
spirit,  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive 
the  heart  of  the  contrite  ones." 


MAGNITUDE    OF    CREATION.  285 

The  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  revelation  of  this 
God,  and  it  carries  the  tokens  of  its  divinity  with  it  in 
the  purity  and  grandeur  of  the  prospects  it  presents, 
and  the  glorious  freeness  with  which  it  offers  them  to 
a  fallen  world  —  in  the  depths  of  Divine  mercy  dis- 
closed by  it,  which  are  no  dream,  for  they  attest  them- 
selves by  their  fruits  in  the  transformation  of  souls  into 
a  heavenly  image,  and  in  the  patience  and  hope  and 
peace  which  the  humblest  of  us  may  share,  according 
to  our  measure,  through  the  grace  of  the  Son  of  God. 
It  is  a  noble  thing  to  study  God's  universe.  It  is  a 
nobler  thing  to  be  acquainted  with  Himself.  It  is  the 
noblest  of  all  to  unite  these  two  —  to  feel  the  mercy  of 
God's  heart,  and  see  the  majesty  of  his  handiwork,  and 
to  accept  them  both  as  Godlike,  and  both  as  ours  — 
"  He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their 
wounds  ;  He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars,  He  calleth 
them  all  by  their  names.  Great  is  our  Lord,  and  of 
great  power :  his  understanding  is  infinite "  (Psalm 
xlvii.  3). 

The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  is,  that  he  who 
feels  that  he  has  a  soul  will  find  his  way  into  a  spirit- 
ual world,  and  he  who  feels  that  he  has  sin  will  find 
a  Divine  fitness  in  the  gospel  of  Christ.  And,  when 
he  embraces  it,  he  will  come  to  see  that  "  the  stars  in 
all  their  courses  "  fight  for  that  gospel.  Both  revela- 
tions are  worthy  of  God,  and  each,  rightly  considered, 
contributes  to  the  fulness  of  the  other.  But  of  the 
two,  the  gospel  is  more  needful  to  us.  The  "  bright 
and  morning  star  "  is  more  to  our  soul's  firmament 
than  all  the  constellations  of  the  sky.  It  is  needed 
even  the  more  for  that  vastness  of  creation  which, 


286  THE   GOSPEL. 

without  its  guiding  light,  would  bewilder  and  blind  us, 
for,  truly  viewed,  the  gospel,  instead  of  requiring  a 
defence  against  astronomy,  stands  justified  by  it  as  a 
grand  moral  and  spiritual  necessity. 


XVII. 


an's  JWe  of  :[mmortttitg  |[ttcontautM  Bg  loi 


u  If  it  -were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you."  — John  xiv.  2. 

HESE  words  are  a  parenthesis  in  the  midst  of 
one  of  our  Lord's  greatest  promises.  His  dis- 
^W<^  ciples  already  cherished  high  hopes  of  a  glori- 
ous future  through  Him,  and  now  what  He  says  is 
above  all  they  could  ask  or  think,  —  eternal  mansions 
in  heaven,  where  they  shall  see  and  share  the  glory 
which  the  Father  bestows  on  the  only  begotten  and 
well-beloved  Son.  There  might  be  some  misgivings  in 
their  minds,  as  if  such  hopes  were  beyond  hope,  and 
these  words  are  thrown  in  to  quiet  them  —  "  If  it  were 
not  so,  I  would  have  told  you."  "  I  know,"  as  if  He 
had  said,  "  what  you  are  expecting,  and  you  need 
cherish  no  apprehension  lest  you  come  short  of  it. 
Though  I  had  given  no  promise  in  words,  my  silence 
would  have  been  your  guarantee  and  pledge.  Had  you 
been  deceiving  yourselves  with  a  falsehood,  I  would 
have  felt  bound  to  undeceive  you." 

There  is  a  familiarity  of  friendship  in  the  words 


288 


which  breathes  the  spirit  of  his  own  saying  (John  xv. 
15)  —  "Henceforth  I  call  you  not  servants;  for  the 
servant  knoweth  not  what  his  Lord  doeth,  but  I  have 
called  you  friends."  There  is  an  appeal  to  the  innate 
truthfulness  of  his  own  nature,  which  we  feel  to  be 
deserved  by  Him.  He  is  so  faithful  that  He  will  not 
merely  refrain  from  uttering  a  falsehood,  He  will 
not  connive  at  it  by  silence.  He  cannot  be  near  error 
without  unmasking  it,  and  showing  that  He  is  the 
Truth.  The  looks,  the  words,  the  conduct  of  his  dis- 
ciples, were  making  a  constant  appeal  to  Him,  and 
telling  of  their  hope  of  eternal  life  through  Him.  Had 
He  been  conscious  of  its  emptiness  and  refused  to 
speak  out,  had  He  accepted  their  homage  and  service, 
with  such  a  misapprehension  in  their  hearts,  what 
should  we  think  of  Him  ?  It  would  cloud  all  the 
character  of  Christ  in  its  foundation-element  of  truth- 
fulness, and  destroy  the  ideal  we  have  formed  to  our- 
selves of  One  in  whose  mouth  there  was  no  guile.  The 
basis  of  all  his  teaching  is  truth  first ;  truth  above 
all  things  ;  truth,  however  hard  and  painful  —  let  us 
know  the  truth ;  and  were  He  to  act  in  contradiction 
to  it  here,  and  connive  at  a  falsehood  which  runs 
through  the  whole  life  of  his  disciples,  and  which 
affects  their  close  relation  to  Himself,  we  should  cease 
to  love  or  reverence  such  a  character  any  more.  The 
brightest  ideal  which  ever  rose  on  the  world  would  be 
felt  to  be  hollow  and  deceptive. 

Now,  this  conception  of  what  Christ  should  have 
done,  and  would  have  done,  in  these  circumstances, 
whence  comes  it  ?  Whence  this  conviction  of  what 
truth  requires  of  One  who  appears  with  the  claim  to 


UNCONTRADICTED   BY   GOD.  289 

be  the  Son  of  God  ?  It  is  certainly  of  God's  own  im- 
planting. The  deep  unalterable  feeling  that  truth  has 
a  supreme  claim  over  all  things  else,  and  that  nothing 
can  justify,  not  merely  the  utterance  of  falsehood,  but 
silent  connivance  with  it,  —  this  feeling  is  engraven  in 
man's  soul  by  Him  who  is  the  Father  of  lights.  If  we 
did  not  believe  in  the  unchangeable  nature  and  claims 
of  truth,  wTe  could  not  believe  in  Him. 

We  feel  that  if  God  has  implanted  in  us  this  con- 
viction of  the  homage  due  to  truth,  He  Himself  will 
act  in  accordance  with  it.  His  conduct,  as  far  as  we 
can  trace  it,  will  correspond  with  the  moral  and  spirit- 
ual principles  which  lie  at  the  root  of  the  nature  He 
has  given  us. 

We  purpose,  then,  taking  this  principle  announced 
by  Christ,  which  we  feel  to  be  so  worthy  of  Him, 
so  just  and  right,  and  we  shall  try  to  apply  it  to  what 
we  may  expect  from  God.  In  doing  this  we  must, 
first,  show  that  we  stand  to  the  Maker  of  the  universe 
in  a  position  similar  to  that  in  which  these  disciples 
stood  to  their  Master,  —  that  is,  we  are  looking  to  Him 
for  the  fulfilment  of  hopes  which  go  beyond  this  world 
into  another ;  next,  we  must  show  that  the  same  con- 
siderations which  would  have  led  Christ  to  undeceive 
his  disciples,  had  they  been  in  error,  apply  to  God  in 
his  position  to  us ;  and  then  will  follow  the  conclusion, 
that,  as  the  silence  of  Christ  would  have  been,  as  He 
tells  us,  an  assurance  to  his  disciples  that  they  were 
right  in  their  hopes,  so  the  silence  of  God,  if  He  had 
been  silent,  would  be  an  encouragement  to  us  to  be- 
lieve that  the  immortality  we  expect  from  Him  is  not 
a  dream.     We  look  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  expect 

19 


290  man's  hope  of  immortality 

an  eternal  home  for  the  sonl.     "  If  it  were  not  so,  He 
would  have  told  us." 

I.  The  first  thing  we  have  to  do  is  to  show  that  our 
position  to  God  is  similar  to  that  in  which  the 
disciples  stood  to  Christ,  —  we  are  looking  to  Him 
for  the  fulfilment  of  hopes  which  reach  beyond  our 
present  life. 

It  cannot  be  questioned  that  there  is  a  deep  and 
wide  testimony  in  man's  nature  to  the  existence  of 
a  God  and  of  a  future  life.  It  may  be  pronounced 
either  true  or  false,  but  it  must  be  admitted  to  exist. 
We  find  it  appearing  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages, 
and  the  seeming  exceptions  to  it  no  more  vitiate  the 
fact  than  the  absence  of  reason  in  some  individuals,  or 
its  degradation  in  some  races,  would  lead  us  to  deny 
that  man  is  rational.  Those  who  believe  in  the  effect 
of  sin  can  account  for  the  distortion  and  the  darkening 
of  this  testimony  of  man's  nature,  though  sin  with  all 
its  power  has  not  been  able  to  eradicate  it.  We  may 
glance  at  it  more  in  detail. 

There  is  a  dim  token  of  a  nature  which  seeks  more 
than  earth,  in  the  manner  in  which  earthly  things  are 
often  pursued.  When  we  see  man  grasping  at  wealth 
and  fame,  at  power  and  pleasure,  casting  them  all 
into  the  void  of  the  soul,  and  still  unsatisfied,  we  per- 
ceive something  of  the  truth  that  he  is  made  for  the 
infinite  and  the  divine.  The  world  cannot  fill  his  soul, 
because  it  is  greater  than  the  world.  Man  himself  is 
conducting  an  exhaustive  argument  to  prove  the  true 
end  of  his  being.  The  magnet  in  his  heart  can  never 
rest  till  it  points  to  its  pole-star. 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  291 

We  can  see  it  when  the  mind  of  man  intermeddles 
with  all  knowledge,  pursues  the  broken  rays  of  truth, 
and  seeks  to  trace  them  to  a  higher  and  still  a  higher 
fountain,  —  when  he  strives  to  resolve  facts  into  laws, 
particular  laws  into  general,  general  into  universal, 
and  so  upward  to  one  supreme  centre.  In  his  thirst 
for  truth,  solely  because  it  is  truth,  in  his  faith  in  it,  in 
his  search  after  it  as  single  and  sovereign,  there  is 
a  token  of  man's  origin  and  destiny. 

It  comes  to  light  in  the  way  in  which  man  pursues 
an  object  beyond  the  range  of  self-interest,  and  the 
term  of  his  own  life.  Instances  of  it  occur  not  only  in 
a  few  men  of  lofty  enthusiasm,  who  embrace  a  nation 
or  a  world  in  their  thought,  but  every  day  and  in  every 
walk  of  life.  We  all  know  men  who  have  aims,  more 
or  less  exalted,  for  which  they  are  ready  to  give  time 
and  labor  and  endless  anxiety,  without  any  prospect 
of  reward  or  fame,  without  even  any  hope  that  they 
themselves  shall  see  the  result.  In  this  stretch  of 
man's  soul  beyond  self  there  is  a  look  of  his  nature 
beyond  earthly  limits. 

We  can  perceive  the  same  in  the  conception  men  have 
of  an  ideal  of  perfection,  in  the  delight  with  which 
they  dwell  upon  it,  in  their  struggle  to  realize  it,  and 
in  the  deep  lamentation  that  comes  from  the  heart 
over  the  imperfect  and  impure  around  them.  The 
only  sphere  in  which  this  yearning  can  be  realized  is 
immortality.  Without  this  it  would  have  no  proper 
meaning,  no  sufficient  and  worthy  close. 

It  is  discerned  in  all  the  religions  which  man  has 
made  for  himself.  He  cannot  remain  permanently  with- 
out a  religion,  and  that  religion  must  as  certainly  have 


292  man's  hope  of  immortality 

a  future.  Individuals  may  have  so  far  reasoned  them- 
selves out  of  their  sense  of  an  immortality,  and  partic- 
ular nations  and  ages,  through  the  influence  of  a 
prevailing  materialism,  may  have  sunk  low  in  the 
appreciation  of  it,  but  it  is  still  there  in  the  heart  of 
humanity,  ready  to  spring  up  when  rightly  appealed 
to.  However  arid  the  soil,  pierce  deep  enough  and 
there  is  some  vein  where  this  water  of  life  may  be 
touched. 

We  can  see  also,  that,  in  proportion  as  religions  rise 
in  their  perception  of  moral  excellence,  in  that  degree 
do  they  become  clear  on  the  question  of  immortality. 
We  may  appeal  here  to  the  Bible,  and  to  the  various 
forms  of  religious  faith  which  are  connected  with  it. 
We  are  not  quoting  it  for  its  authority,  but  simply  as 
a  matter  of  fact.  Let  a  man,  if  he  will,  say  that  the 
book  and  all  that  has  sprung  from  it  is  merely  a  prod- 
uct of  human  nature,  it  is  still  an  evidence  that  human 
nature  is  looking  for  an  eternal  life.  The  hundreds  of 
millions  who  hold  by  it  profess  this  at  least,  and  we 
have  a  right  to  say  that  Christianity,  in  its  rise  and 
diffusion,  is  a  testimony  to  man's  hope  of  an  immor- 
tality. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  vast  mass  of  those  who  pro- 
fess it  think  very  little  of  the  eternal  life  which  it 
proclaims,  and  this  must  be  mournfully  admitted.  If 
they  all  held  it  as  a  constant  firm-fixed  conviction, 
there  would  be  no  need  to  argue  for  it.  We  refer  to 
it  here  only  to  show  that  a  religion,  which  is  the  most 
widely  spread  through  the  most  intelligent  part  of  man- 
kind,—  where  human  nature,  on  its  intellectual  and 
spiritual  side,  is  most  fully  developed,  —  has  the  hope 


UNCONTRADICTED   BY   GOD.  293 

of  immortality  for  one  of  its  central  and  pervading 
ideas. 

We  have  a  right  to  say  further,  that  this  hope  is  one 
of  its  greatest  living  forces.  It  rose  with  this,  burning 
in  its  breast ;  it  lives  with  this  indestructible  fire  within 
it,  kindling  and  intensifying  itself  with  the  powers  of 
the  world  to  come.  No  one  can  read  these  parting- 
words  of  Christ  or  the  utterances  of  such  men  as  Paul 
and  John,  without  seeing  that,  wherever  their  religion 
goes,  the  conviction  of  an  immortality  goes  with  it  as  an 
all-pervading  thought.  Its  martyrdoms  and  its  mission- 
ary efforts  are  everywhere  based  upon  it.  Its  preach- 
ers are  inflamed  with  the  love  of  saving  souls  that  are 
immortal ;  and  its  witnesses  have  calmly  met  death  for 
the  truth's  sake,  because  they  believed  that  they  were 
not  losing  life,  but  gaining  it. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  materialism  of  our  day,  the 
missions  of  Christian  churches  abroad  and  at  home, 
the  sacrifices  and  self-denying  labors  for  the  spread  of 
the  gospel,  prove  how  strong  among  many  millions  is 
the  conviction  of  the  value  of  the  sonl  in  its  immortal 
nature.  It  remains  yet  to  be  shown  that  any  view  of 
man,  as  possessed  of  a  mere  earthly  life,  will  lead  to 
the  suffering  and  labor  wliich  the  gospel  has  called 
forth  in  the  cause  of  humanity  ;  and  it  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that  a  philanthropy  wbich  professes  to  be  able  to 
act  without  the  gospel  hope,  has  never  appeared  except 
where  the  gospel  has  warmed  the  air  and  enlightened 
the  sky. 

I  know  that  it  is  the  fashion  of  some  to  speak  of  the 
hope  of  immortality  as  selfish,  and  to  object  to  Christi- 
anity because  it  puts  eternal  life  in  the  front  rank  of  its 


294 


truths.  We  should  be  able,  they  say,  to  follow  the 
true,  the  right,  the  good,  whether  there  be  an  immor- 
tality or  not.  But  the  question  is,  whether  in  following 
the  true,  the  right,  and  the  good,  and  in  connecting 
these  with  the  thought  of  God,  it  be  selfish  to  desire 
to  follow  them  out  to  their  fullest  issue,  and  to  follow 
them  for  ever.  There  is  a  selfish  way  of  looking  at  the 
doctrine  of  immortality,  as  of  every  thing  else  ;  but  there 
is  also  an  unselfish  way,  and  it  is  the  most  Christian, 
—  a  view  of  immortality  which  thirsts  for  it  and  claims 
it  as  the  heritage  of  man,  and  which  can  forget  itself 
in  the  thought  of  God,  and  an  eternal  universe  of  truth 
and  purity  with  which  He  shall  at  last  surround  Him- 
self. It  is  surely  worthy  of  consideration,  in  this 
question  of  unselfishness,  that  the  religion  which  of 
all  others  is  most  disinterested  in  its  morality,  which 
founds  its  motives,  not  on  hope  of  reward,  but  on  love, 
is  that  one  also  which  looks  most  clearly  and  steadily 
into  an  eternal  life,  and  that  its  central  act  is  a  sacri- 
fice unto  death,  which  becomes  the  spring  and  birth  of 
numberless  immortalities.  That  the  gospel  infuses 
into  the  soul  the  ardor  for  an  eternal  life  is  a  truth  we 
not  only  admit,  —  it  is  one  in  which  we  glory  ;  but  the 
desire,  as  the  gospel  puts  it,  is  not  for  the  mere  exist- 
ence, or  any  outward  accompaniments  of  it,  —  it  is 
for  the  true,  the  pure,  and  divine,  which  have  become 
to  the  soul  the  life  of  life.  To  ask  us  to  be  willing 
to  give  up  looking  on,  and  living  for,  such  a  world,  is  to 
demand,  not  unselfishness,  but  apathy. 

We  appeal,  then,  to  the  Bible,  and  the  forms  of  reli- 
gion that  have  sprung  from  it,  not  in  the  way  of  author- 
ity, but  merely  as  proof  of  this  fact,  that  vast  numbers 


UNCONTRADICTED   BY   GOD.  295 

of  men  are  looking  to  God  with  the  hope  of  an  immor- 
tality. In  all  ages  they  have  labored  and  suffered  and 
died  in  this  hope.  Many  of  the  purest,  noblest  natures, 
that  make  us  reverence  humanity  as  a  Divine  work, 
have  gone  through  the  world  with  their  face  turned  to 
God  and  eternity,  and  the  unalterable  conviction  in 
their  heart  that  it  was  no  evanescent  look.  They  have 
been  appealing  to  the  Father  of  spirits  as  really  and 
truly  for  the  fulfilment  of  their  expectation,  as  his  dis- 
ciples did  to  Christ,  when  they  followed  Him  and  looked 
into  his  face  with  the  hope  of  eternal  life  in  their 
souls. 

And  this  conviction,  represented  in  the  Bible,  has, 
lying  behind  it,  the  deep  instinct  spoken  of  in  the 
religious,  and  even  in  the  earthly,  struggles  of  man 
universal,  —  the  instinct  that  he  is  the  citizen  of  a 
greater  sphere  than  time.  It  is  an  instinct  that  may  be 
maltreated,  and  that,  left  to  itself,  will  grow  up  into 
sad  perversions,  but  the  Bible  does  not  create  it,  it 
finds  it,  and  makes  it  its  work  to  purify  and  point  it 
to  its  true  end.  Even  in  its  lowest  form,  it  makes  its 
dumb  appeal  to  God,  and  is  part  of  the  dim  groping  after 
Him  who  is  the  desire  of  all  nations.  If  it  were  utterly 
false,  we  would  expect  that,  in  some  way,  it  would  be 
shown  to  be  so.  The  principle  laid  down  by  Christ  for 
his  own  conduct  would  apply  equally  to  God.  If  in  these 
hopes  and  aspirations  men  were  deceived,  and  were  ap- 
pealing to  the  Author  of  their  being,  so  widely  and  so 
constantly  for  the  fulfilment  of  what  He  never  intends  to 
bestow,  then,  in  some  distinct  way  or  other,  by  some  voice 
from  heaven,  or  some  prevailing  voice  of  reason  in  their 
own  hearts,  we  might  justly  conclude  that  He  would  act 


296 

on  this  principle — "If  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have 
told  you." 

II.  Having  sought  to  show  that  there  is  a  parallel 
position,  we  have  next  to  prove  that  the  same  consid- 
erations WHICH  WOULD  HAVE  LED  CHRIST  TO  UNDECEIVE 
HIS  DISCIPLES,  HAD  THEY  BEEN  IN  ERROR,  APPLY  TO  GOD 
IN  HIS  POSITION  TO  US. 

The  reasons  fall  under  a  twofold  division,  —  those 
which  lie  in  God's  own  character,  and  those  which  lie 
in  the  relation  hetween  Sim  and  us.  Whatever  could 
press  on  Christ  as  a  moral  obligation  to  speak  out  to  his 
disciples,  would  lead  us  to  expect  that,  if  we  were 
deceiving  ourselves,  God  would  speak  out  to  us. 

In  thinking  of  character  we  must  take  truthfulness 
as  a  first  element.  Christ's  faithfulness  to  truth  would 
have  prevented  Him  from  suffering  his  friends  to 
live  and  die  self-deceived  in  so  momentous  a  question. 
A  genuine  nature  will  shun,  not  merely  active  false- 
hood, but  silent  connivance  with  it.  The  most  beauti- 
ful ideal  of  moral  purity  which  ever  appeared  on  the 
world's  horizon,  would  be  all  darkened  if  we  could 
conceive  of  Christ  as  a  tacit  party  to  deception,  living 
all  his  life  amid  hollow  hopes,  and  never  uttering  a 
word  to  correct  them.     "  He  would  have  told  them." 

And  shall  we  think  less  or  worse  of  God,  from 
whom  every  conviction  of  faithfulness  and  purity 
which  glances  through  our  bosom  must  come  ?  The 
standard  of  clear  candor  which  demands  no  suppres- 
sion of  the  truth,  when  we  are  appealed  to,  has  been 
implanted  in  us  by  Him.  Shall  He  not  act  upon  it  ? 
If  we  believe  in  Him  at  all,  we  must  believe  in  a  "  God 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  297 

of  truth,  and  without  iniquity."  Yet  here  would  be 
men,  through  successive  generations,  cherishing  a 
baseless  expectation,  looking  to  Him  for  its  fulfilment, 
and  going  down  in  ceaseless  procession  to  the  grave, 
with  a  lie  in  their  right  hand.  The  living  labors  of 
men,  their  dying  hopes,  their  feeble  hands  raised  in 
supplication,  their  closing  eyes,  all  turning  to  Him 
and  his  heaven,  yearning  for  a  final  home,  —  friends 
following  them  there  in  thought,  and  enduring  life 
only  in  the  hope  to  meet  them  again,  —  and  it  is  all  a 
deception,  and  God,  the  God  of  truth,  can  look  silently 
on,  nor  utter  one  word,  nor  give  a  warning  sign  ! 
"  That  be  far  from  thee,  Lord,  that  shall  not  be  unto 
thee !  " 

Another  fundamental  element  in  character  is  justice. 
It  would  have  impelled  Christ  to  undeceive  his  dis- 
ciples, had  He  known  their  hopes  to  be  vain.  For 
these  hopes  they  were  exposing  themselves  to  hard- 
ship and  scorn,  stripes  and  prison,  and  were  ready  to 
suffer  a  cruel  and  untimely  death.  They  counted 
these  sufferings  "  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the 
glory  that  was  to  be  revealed."  Even  had  they  been 
willing  to  encounter  them  all  the  same,  without  thought 
of  a  future,  they  should  have  known  it.  It  was  right 
that  the  terms  should  be  before  them,  and  that  Christ 
should  not  accept  their  services  and  sufferings  on  a 
false  presumption.     "  He  would  have  told  them." 

And  shall  there  not  be  the  same  equity  in  God  ? 
Here  is  a  conscience  implanted  in  man  which  urges 
him  to  surrender  all  things,  even  life  itself,  that  he 
may  meet  the  final  Judge  with  a  smile.  Here  are  men 
who  have  faced  the  most  terrible  deaths  in  obedience 


298 


to  the  call  of  truth,  and  have  entered  the  fire  and 
mounted  the  scaffold  joyfully  because  they  saw  the 
God  of  truth  beckoning  them  on.  And  was  the  vision 
a  phantasm,  flickering  in  the  flames,  permitted,  if  not 
formed,  by  God  to  delude  them,  and  were  the  ashes 
scattered  by  the  winds  all  that  remained  of  those 
hearts  of  faith  ?  They  might  have  been  unselfish 
enough  to  have  served  Him  all  the  same,  since  love  to 
Himself,  and  not  any  selfish  hope  of  his  heaven,  was 
their  motive,  but  surely  they  should  have  known  it. 
If  Divine  equity  can  have  the  law  of  the  universe 
move  on  amid  a  perpetual  delusion,  and  be  subserved 
by  it,  then  God's  justice  is  something  else  than  the 
image  of  it  which  He  has  formed  within  us. 

There  is  still  another  element  of  character  which 
would  have  led  Christ  to  undeceive  his  disciples,  had 
He  known  their  hopes  to  be  false,  —  his  goodness. 
At  first  sight  it  might  seem  as  if  it  were  kinder  to 
suffer  them  to  dream  on,  since  all  their  regrets  would 
be  quenched  in  extinction.  But,  apart  from  truth  and 
justice,  a  heart  of  genuine  pity  could  not  bear  to  see 
the  highest  hopes  -perpetually  bursting  into  nothing- 
ness, as  if  human  souls  were  only  air-bells,  flushing 
into  rainbow  colors,  to  vanish  out  of  existence.  Let 
us  imagine  for  a  moment  that  Christ  was  walking 
beside  them,  listening  to  their  happy  converse  of  the 
vision  of  God  and  the  communion  of  saints  in  an 
eternal  home  above  the  skies,  while  all  the  time  He 
was  aware  of  the  dreadful  secret  that  a  few  steps 
before  them  was  the  fathomless  grave  into  which  they 
were  stumbling,  with  no  consciousness  and  no  awaken- 
ing any  more.     And  could  that  large  and  loving  heart 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  299 

have  borne  the  sight  without  tears  of  anguish,  which 
would  have  told  the  terrible  loss,  if  words  had  failed 
Him  ?  Though  their  sleep  might  be  too  deep  to  be 
broken  by  a  dream  of  all  the  God-like  aspirations  they 
had  cherished  and  lost  for  ever,  He  could  not  have 
endured  the  sight,  and  if  there  were  beings  besides  in 
the  universe  of  God,  who  beheld  such  extinction  of 
hope,  we  feel  as  if  it  would  poison  their  celestial  joy 
to  behold  spirits,  panting  for  God's  immortality,  and 
the  cup  of  life  constantly  dashed  down  as  it  touched 
their  lips. 

And,  if  we  carry  such  a  thought  still  upward,  what 
shall  we  reckon  of  the  heart  of  a  God  of  mercy  who 
could  look  on  such  a  scene  with  silent  composure  ?  If 
there  be  compassion  in  Him,  like  that  which  we  attrib- 
ute to  a  Christ,  or  even  like  the  poor  spark  of  it  which 
is  kindled  in  us,  could  He  preside  with,  dumb  indif- 
ference over  a  world  where  He  is  saved  from  the  bit- 
ter cry  of  deception  only  because  his  creatures  cannot 
wake  to  tell  Him  of  their  cruel  and  eternal  disappoint- 
ment ? 

To  raise  such  dreadful  thoughts  is  surely  to  answer 
them.  We  could  not  bear  the  scene,  and  how  should 
He  ?  If  this  life  were  indeed  all,  would  not  the  good- 
ness of  God  bring  man's  wishes  within  the  circle  of  his 
brief  existence,  and  not  suffer  him  to  tantalize  himself 
with  the  lights  and  shadows,  the  hopes  and  fears,  of  an 
eternity  which  shall  never  dawn  ?  If  this  life  were  all, 
why  should  man  be  made  to  mourn  for  the  dead,  with 
a  grief  that  has  no  likeness  upon  earth  ?  why  the  deep 
undying  memory,  the  tomb,  the  cherished  dust,  the 
treasured  image  in  the  heart,  till  the  heart  beats  no 


300  man's  hope  of  immortality 

more  ?  If  there  be  life  beyond,  then  the  most  agoniz- 
ing grief  and  bitter  tears  may  belong  to  a  scheme  of 
mercy,  for  they  endure  only  for  a  night,  and  can  lead 
to  infinite  compensation.  But  if  death  be  all,  the 
kindness  of  this  world's  Maker  would  surely  have 
caused  parting  to  leave  a  less  deep  and  lengthened 
sting.  Otherwise,  the  hardened  and  heartless  would 
be  the  fittest  for  such  a  world,  and  the  tenderest  and 
most  loving  would  be  made  most  wretched  by  that 
which,  in  them,  is  the  likest  to  God.  Could  God  per- 
mit such  dishonor  to  his  dearest  attribute  of  love  ? 

Besides  the  character  of  God  from  which  we  have 
been  here  arguing,  there  is  the  relation  ivhich  exists  be- 
tiveen  Him  and  his  human  creatures.  It  also  is  fitted 
to  excite  hopes  corresponding  to  those  cherished  by 
the  disciples  from  their  Master's  relation  to  them,  and 
it,  too,  would  claim  something,  like  this  promised  con 
tradiction,  —  "If  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told 
you." 

One  of  the  first  of  these  relations  is  that  of  a  Teacher. 
Christ  had  led  his  disciples  to  look  to  Him  for  instruc- 
tion in  all  the  great  interests  of  life.  He  had  spoken 
to  them  of  God's  character,  of  his  works  and  will,  had 
taught  them  to  recognize  his  hand  in  bird  and  flower, 
in  the  world  of  men  and  in  their  own  hearts.  He 
made  them  feel  the  depth  of  sin,  and  showed  them 
how  they  were  to  be  delivered  from  it,  and  these  things 
had  been  to  them  bread  and  water  of  life.  Had  He 
spoken  of  no  future  world,  the  cry  of  their  hearts 
would  still  have  been,  "  Evermore,  Lord,  give  us  this 
bread."  And  had  Christ  known  that  this  cry  was 
vain,  it  would  have  been  unworthy  of  Him  to  stimu- 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  301 

late  it.  He  would  have  convinced  them  that  the  de- 
sire was  unreasonable,  or  He  would  have  carefully 
guarded  against  exciting  it. 

Now  God  has  taken  up  a  relation  like  this  to  his  in- 
telligent creature,  man.  He  has  spread  around  him 
manifold  fields  of  knowledge,  traversed  by  open  paths 
of  inquiry.  He  has  allured  him  to  the  study  of  his 
wide  universe,  by  glimpses  of  truth  which  fill  his  soul 
with  a  thrill  as  he  looks,  and  with  a  passion  to  pursue 
the  search.  He  has  sent  out  gleams  of  his  own  infinite 
nature,  of  his  majesty  and  wisdom  and  goodness,  which 
make  man  feel  how  sweet  are  the  beams  which  come 
from  that  fountain,  how  pleasant  it  must  be  for  ever  to 
behold  that  sun.  Such  truths  satisfy  a  desire  in  man, 
but  they  also  excite  it.  And  when  God  has  thus  be- 
come our  Teacher,  and  begun  to  fill  our  minds  with 
wonderful  thoughts  of  his  universe  and  Himself,  can 
we  believe  that,  in  that  day,  He  will  suffer  all  our 
thoughts  to  perish  ?  To  have  such  lessons  commenced, 
cannot  but  raise  the  hope  that  they  will  end  in  some- 
thing definite  and  complete.  He  would  have  told  us 
were  it  otherwise,  or,  having  command  of  both  the 
scholar  and  the  books,  He  would  have  prevented  the 
birth  of  such  a  fruitless  expectation. 

A  relation  higher  than  instruction  is  the  drawing  out 
of  the  heart's  affections.  Although  Christ  had  never 
required  the  love  of  his  disciples,  they  could  not  have 
helped  rendering  it.  His  words  and  his  conduct 
bound  them  to  Him  irrevocably,  and  when  they  were 
asked  if  they  would  abandon  Him  for  any  other,  they 
could  only  say,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  "  Fear 
overcame  them  for  a  moment,  but,  though  they  fled 


302  man's  hope  of  immortality 

from  his  cross,  they  gathered  to  his  grave,  and  followed 
Him  on  to  their  own,  through  tortures  and  martyr- 
doms, in  the  hope  that  they  would  meet  Him  at  last 
with  joy. 

Now,  let  us  suppose  for  an  instant,  that,  by  some 
strange  arrangement,  immortality  was  for  Him  but  not 
for  them.  The  supposition,  however  unnatural,  con- 
tains the  illustration  we  need.  Let  us  suppose  that 
when  He  ascended,  the  love  which  He  had  kindled  in 
them  followed  Him  up  into  the  depths  of  heaven,  never 
to  be  followed  by  themselves,  and  that  He  sat  down 
upon  his  throne  to  forget  those  who  remembered  Him 
till  death.  Then  the  love  had  failed,  not  on  the  part 
of  earth  but  heaven,  —  not  the  mortal  friend  but  the 
immortal  Master  would  have  been  guilty  of  cold  for- 
getfulness.  He  would  surely  never  have  drawn  out 
affection  if  He  had  intended  such  a  close  to  it,  nor 
taught  it  to  cluster  round  Himself  with  twining  arms 
and  fragrant  blossoms  if  it  was  to  wither  in  a  night. 

And  yet,  if  we  are  never  to  awake  from  our  graves, 
this  is  the  manner  of  the  God  that  made  us.  He  has 
attracted  our  love  to  Himself  by  his  works  and  ways, 
by  the  beauties  of  his  world  and  the  bounties  of  his 
hand,  and,  if  his  countenance  be  sometimes  stern  and 
clouded,  He  has  prompted  our  hearts  to  press  in  to- 
ward his  heart  through  the  dark,  and  to  believe  that 
all  the  cloud  is  but  the  hiding  of  a  Father's  face.  The 
Book,  which  we  say  comes  from  Him,  may  have  its 
origin  denied,  but  it  has  sprung  up  in  his  world  from 
hearts  which  He  has  made,  and  it  contains  the  record, 
and  becomes  the  source,  of  affections  which  hold  fast  to 
Him  in  the  midst  of  all  changes.     He  has  permitted, 


UNCONTRADICTED   BY   GOD.  303 

if  He  has  not  arranged,  that  there  should  be  an  outflow 
of  constant  and  undying  love  to  Him,  such  as  is  seen 
above  all  in  the  Bible  and  its  results,  —  a  love  which 
cannot  be  satisfied  with  one  passing  look,  but  which 
longs  for  an  eternal  gaze.  And,  if  He  meant  never 
to  meet  its  desire,  would  He  not  be  allowing  a  love  to 
spring  up  in  the  human  heart,  stronger  and  truer  than 
his  own ;  for  man's  would  be  perpetually  struggling  to 
overpass  death,  while  God's  would  coldly  yield  to  it  ? 

This  relation  of  affection  rises  into  the  higher  one 
of  fellowship.  It  is  affection  entering  on  the  exchange  of 
thought  and  feeling.  The  bond  between  Christ  and 
his  disciples,  of  mutual  converse  and  appeal,  finds  its 
counterpart  in  the  bond  between  God  and  many  souls 
of  men  in  this  world.  Not  only  has  God  put  his 
works  in  such  a  way  before  men  that  his  mode  of 
thinking,  the  links  of  reasoning,  the  checks  and 
counter-checks  in  his  operations,  come  before  them  as 
from  a  fellow-man ;  not  only  has  He  spread  before 
them  the  delicacies  of  his  taste,  in  his  exquisite  forms 
and  colors,  and  shut  up  tender  thoughts,  "  too  deep 
for  tears,"  in  every  flower,  but  he  has  impelled  them 
to  put  their  thoughts  and  feelings  before  Him.  There 
are  times  when  such  a  pressure  is  laid  upon  us  that  we 
are  forced  to  send  our  wishes  out  to  God.  It  is  as 
strong,  it  is  a  stronger,  necessity  for  some  men  to  speak 
to  God,  than  it  is  for  others  to  speak  to  their  fellow- 
creatures.  This  instinct  of  prayer  is  acknowledged 
in  all  religions  ;  it  is  expressed,  almost  unconsciously,  in 
the  broken  cry,  "  0  God  !  "  that  is  wrung  from  a  man's 
lips  in  suffering.  Whence  has  come  this  spontaneous 
recourse  to  prayer,  which  withstands  all  arguments  ? 


304  man's  hope  of  immortality 

Let  it  be  granted  that  it  is  the  Bible  which  has  given 
to  this  feeling  clearness  and  consciousness,  and  let  us 
suppose,  meanwhile,  that  it  is  no  more  than  a  human 
book.  It  must  in  any  case  meet  a  human  want, 
and  express  a  human  desire.  If  it  is  not  God's 
heart  meeting  man,  it  is  man's  heart  meeting  God,  and 
seeking  a  fellowship  with  his  Maker,  which  cannot  but 
be  of  his  Maker's  prompting.  If  not  direct  and  super- 
natural, as  Christians  hold,  yet  indirect  and  natural, 
from  the  constitution  which  God  has  given  to  man, 
and  to  the  world  in  which  he  has  placed  him.  In  any 
case,  there  is  interchange  of  thought  arranged  between 
God  and  the  soul  of  man. 

And  when,  in  the  trust  and  joy  of  this  fellowship, 
the  soul  looks  forward  to  its  continuance,  can  we  be- 
lieve that  God  would  permit  it,  in  this,  to  be  for  ever 
deceived  ?  —  that  He  would  neither  save  it  from  death, 
nor  seek  to  bring  its  desires  within  the  compass  of  its 
inevitable  doom  ?  Can  this  be  the  kindness  of  God  to 
his  friends  ?  If  Christ  could  not  have  buried  such 
a  secret  in  his  heart  from  those  who  trusted  Him,  we 
feel  that  it  would  .be  unworthy  of  God  to  act  on  any 
other  principle,  that  he  must  be  true  and  transparent 
in  his  friendship,  and  either  fulfil  the  desire  of  those 
who  fear  Him,  or  convince  them  that  the  desire  is  un- 
attainable: "  If  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you." 

The  more  we  dwell  on  the  line  of  thought  we  have 
sought  to  present,  the  more,  we  believe,  will  its  truth 
appear,  —  that  the  desire  of  immortality  in  man,  and 
the  hope  of  it,  may  be  cherished  all  the  more  strongly 
by  us,  because  there  are  reasons  for  God  contradicting 
it,  if  the  hope  were  false.     He  has  contradicted  it  in 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  305 

the  lower  creatures ;  that  is,  He  has  not  suffered  it  to 
spring  up.  He  has  bestowed  no  such  constitution  on 
them,  and  entered  into  no  such  ties,  as  could  lead 
them  to  indulge  the  expectation.  Their  eyes  wait 
upon  Him  for  no  gift  like  this,  and  those  who  dream 
of  a  second  life  for  them  can  only  do  it  of  arbitrary 
fancy,  not  because  the  rudiments  of  it  are  there  already 
in  their  relation  to  God. 

He  has  contradicted  prevalent  falsities  in  human 
nature  in  various  ways.  Apart  from  supernatural 
utterance,  which  we  do  not  here  appeal  to,  there  is  the 
progress  of  reason,  the  growth  of  conscience,  the  rise 
of  the  soul's  highest  life,  which  make  superstitions  and 
immoralities  that  have  covered  whole  ages  and  nations 
to  pine  and  die.  In  these  ways,  He  tells  man  what  is 
false,  but  here  it  is  in  proportion  as  the  soul  grows, 
and  sin  dies,  that  this  hope  increases,  and  it  is  strong- 
est when  we  find  our  highest  intuitions  answered  in  the 
light  and  life  of  God. 

We  can  account  for  this  hope  being  so  dim  and  uncer- 
tain among  vast  masses  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and  for 
the  highest  form  of  it  reaching  its  certainty  and  clear- 
ness only  through  painful  struggles.  Reason  and  con 
science  and  the  love  of  true  freedom,  which  have  all  of 
them  their  roots  in  human  nature,  are  checked  and  per- 
verted by  the  tyranny  of  material  interests,  and  much 
more  may  it  be  expected  that  the  hope  of  immor- 
tality, which  is  still  more  of  the  spiritual,  should  be 
slow  to  grow  to  strength.  God  has  made  his  best  gifts 
in  this  world  only  to  be  reached  through  toil,  and  the 
steadfast  view  of  the  future  is  to  be  gained  as  the  eye 
is  purged  from  impurity.     There  must  be  also  a  pro- 

20 


306  man's  hope  of  immortality 

portion  observed  in  the  opening  up  of  a  future  life, 
that  it  may  not  overbalance  the  present,  and  unfit  men 
for  needful  work,  and  this  equilibrium  is  preserved  by 
letting  it  in  slowly  through  the  spiritual  vision.  At 
the  basis  of  all  these,  lies  the  great  cause  of  every 
darkness,  sin,  which  has  overclouded  man's  view  of 
Divine  things,  and  which  gives  way  gradually  as  God's 
plan  of  education  for  his  world  progresses. 

Some  such  reasons  will  account  for  the  hope  of  im- 
mortality being  to  many  so  dim,  but  that  its  germs 
should  be  found  so  wide  and  so  constant  in  human 
nature,  that  it  should  come  to  its  highest  perfection 
when  it  approaches  most  into  conscious  nearness  to 
God,  and  that,  after  all,  it  should  be  utterly  futile, 
this  would  be  entirely  and  for  ever  unaccountable. 
That  God  should  permit  hesitation  and  struggle  before 
man  reaches  a  glorious  certainty,  is  in  keeping  with 
that  law  of  our  world  which  sets  lions  to  guard  the 
access  to  the  gates  of  the  palace  of  truth  everywhere  ; 
but  that,  in  answer  to  the  highest  struggle  of  the 
human  soul,  there  should  only  be  a  blank  and  ghastly 
negative  —  that  man  should  be  formed  by  nature  or 
destiny,  or  whatever  we  may  call  it,  to  struggle  on 
hopelessly  till  he  stumbles  into  the  yawning  gulf,  — is 
against  every  analogy  around  us  —  and,  if  we  choose 
to  call  the  Being  who  ordains  it,  God,  and  to  believe 
Him  to  be  faithful  and  benevolent,  it  is  against  every 
law  of  truth  and  kindness  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted,—  against  the  deepest  principles  of  them 
which  have  been  planted  by  Him  in  ourselves.  We 
may  apply  to  it  with  full  conviction  the  principle  here 
announced  by  Christ — If  it  were. not  so,  He  would 
have  told  us. 


UNCONTRADICTED    BY   GOD.  307 

In  the  midst  of  this  reasoning  we  can  suppose  the 
objection  frequently  offered,  Wherefore  grope  in  twi- 
light, when  life  and  immortality  have  been  brought  to 
light  in  Christ  ?  Do  we  not  set  aside  his  revelation  as 
valueless  when  we  have  recourse  to  such  arguments  ? 
But  let  it  be  considered,  that  we  have  also  those  to 
deal  with  who  deny  the  authority  of  Christ,  while  they 
admit  a  God.  It  is  surely  something  to  show  that 
immortality  is  closely  linked  with  any  true  faith  in  a 
Divine  Being,  nay,  with  the  proper  view  of  a  moral 
order  in  the  history  of  the  world.  If  this  life  be  all, 
not  only  is  the  Bible  false,  but  our  highest  nature  is 
that  which  deceives  us  most,  and  the  noblest  aspira- 
tions and  struggles  of  the  best  of  men  have  a  falsehood 
at  their  heart. 

Neither  let  us  be  afraid  of  disparaging  the  Bible  by 
leading  men  to  spiritual  convictions  through  any  path 
that  is  true.  He  who  is  brought,  in  any  way,  to  a 
thorough  belief  in  immortality  is  not  further  from 
Christ,  but  nearer  to  Him.  When  he  comes  to  learn 
what  a  precious  pearl  he  has  in  his  bosom,  he  may  see 
that  it  can  be  trusted  only  with  One,  and  that  all  that 
the  Bible  says  Christ  has  done  for  it,  is  eminently  rea- 
sonable, and  worthy  both  of  the  soul  and  of  Him. 

Moreover,  if  we  lay  aside  the  Bible  for  a  while  as  a 
book  of  authority,  and  appeal  to  it  merely  as  a  book 
of  fact  and  experience, —  as  a  history  of  the  human 
spirit  feeling  after  God,  —  we  may  reach  its  Divine 
origin  in  another  way.  If  it  presents  to  us  the  high- 
est view  both  of  God  and  man,  it  may  be  presumed 
that  what  conducts  the  human  race  to  the  one  great 
truth,  could  not  have  its  origin  in  a  system  of  impos- 


308  man's  hope  op  immortality 

ture.  The  well  that  springs  to  everlasting  life  must 
have  had  its  fountain  as  high  as  its  final  flow.  And 
so  by  reasoning  from  Christianity,  as  a  mere  record  of 
human  thought  about  God,  forward  to  the  faith  in  an 
eternal  life,  we  may  find  our  way  back  to  Christ  Him- 
self as  the  root  of  all  right  thinking,  and  to  the  full 
truth  about  his  life  and  person. 

Even  for  Christians,  who  admit  God's  Word  as  an 
ultimate  authority,  it  is  very  good  at  times  to  view  the 
great  articles  of  their  faith  on  all  sides.  One,  and  not 
the  least,  proof  of  the  divinity  of  the  Bible  is,  that  it 
meets  the  truest  and  highest  intuitions  of  the  spirit  of 
man.  But  these  intuitions  must  be  questioned  if  we 
are  to  see  how  they  find  their  answer.  This  subject 
of  an  eternal  life  is  so  vast  and  momentous  that  it  will 
bear  to  be  looked  at  in  every  aspect,  and  under  every 
incidence  of  light.  It  is  whether  God  is  building  out 
of  the  materials  of  his  universe  a  gigantic  tomb,  or  a 
glorious  temple  for  living  worshippers,  —  whether  we 
are  inscribing  empty  epitaphs  over  everlasting  graves, 
or  erecting  votive  tablets  to  Him  who  liveth  for  ever 
and  ever,  and  whose  life  insures  that  of  all  who  look 
upon  his  face.  This  very  saying  of  Christ,  —  his  rea- 
soning with  the  Saclducees  about  immortality,  in  which 
He  founds  it  on  the  relation  of  our  spiritual  nature  to 
God,  —  the  twilight  questionings  and  gropings  of  the 
Psalms  and  Prophets,  —  all  encourage  us  to  move 
round  this  mighty  subject  and  study  it  in  every  point 
of  view.  It  is  to  be  like  the  sculptured  image  of  some 
beloved  friend,  which  we  gaze  upon  in  light  and  shadow, 
remote  and  near,  and  make  our  own  at  each  angle  of 
contemplation  and  in  every  mood  of  thought,  till  it 


UNCONTRADICTED   BY    GOD.  309 

becomes  instinct  with  life,  and  we  feel  as  if  the  lips 
could  speak  and  the  features  break  into  a  smile. 

Still,  it  is  certain  that  if  we  would  realize  the  full 
truth  and  blessedness  of  an  eternal  life,  we  must  study 
it,  not  in  the  silence  of  God,  but  in  his  utterances,  and, 
above  all,  in  the  light  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Be- 
hind and  before  this  saying  of  his,  which  we  have  been 
considering,  there  are  words  that  tell  us  infinitely  more 
of  a  future  world  than  the  human  mind  has  been  able 
to  reach  with  all  its  reasonings.  Nor  is  it  by  his  word 
alone,  or  even  chiefly,  that  He  reveals,  but  much  more 
by  his  person  and  life,  opening  the  unseen,  as  the  sun 
opens  the  world,  by  shining,  and  giving  the  conviction 
of  its  reality,  by  the  new  life  which  he  infuses  into  the 
soul. 

It  is  not  by  declaring  the  resurrection,  but  by  being 
it  within  us,  that  Christ  makes  us  sure  and  blessed. 
Immortality  without  Him  would  be  vague  and  formless, 
and,  when  the  shadows  of  an  awakened  conscience  are 
cast  upon  it,  gloomy  and  fearful.  To  deliver  us  from 
this,  more  was  required  than  silence.  That  prayer 
was  rising  from  the  need  and  darkness  of  sinful  human- 
ity :  "  0  Lord  !  my  rock,  be  not  silent  unto  me  ;  lest  if 
thou  be  silent  unto  me  I  become  like  them  that  go 
down  to  the  pit."  And  in  answer,  the  silence  of  God 
has  broken  forth  into  his  Word,  and  from  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  Christ  has  uttered  his  voice,  "  0  death, 
I  will  be  thy  plague !  0  grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruc- 
tion !  "  His  cross  before  the  gate  of  death,  his  throne 
behind  it,  insures  the  whole.  They  tell  not  only  of 
the  certainty,  but  exceeding  glory,  of  the  soul's  salva- 
tion ;  of  its  infinite  value  as  seen  by  Him  who  could 


310  man's  hope  of  immortality,  etc 


not  over-date  its  duration,  nor  over-estimate  its  worth, 
and  who  has  set  his  seal  upon  both,  when,  to  make  it 
heir  of  his  own  life,  He  gave  Himself. 

And  now,  from  all  the  dark  suggestions  of  utter  loss 
and  annihilation,  we  shall  struggle  to  this  fountain  of 
light,  as  from  funeral  vaults  into  the  sun's  brightness, 
and  every  view  of  Him,  like  every  sunbeam,  shall  be 
its  own  witness,  —  and  opening  graves,  and  rising 
saints,  putting  on  their  immortal  robes,  and  teeming 
mansions  of  the  saved,  and  crowded  courts  of  them  who 
study  God's  eternal  ways,  and,  ever  as  they  study,  sing, 
shall  tell  us  that  God  has  an  end  for  his  universe 
higher  than  our  highest  thoughts,  and  worthy  of  Him- 
self—  while,  over  all,  a  voice  mingled  with  the  music 
of  harpers  playing  on  their  harps,  shall  proclaim  — 
"  But  be  ye  glad  and  rejoice  for  ever  in  that  which  I 
create,  for  behold  I  create  Jerusalem  a  rejoicing  and 
her  people  a  joy." 


XVIII. 


Ilmst's  Jetag  to  Interpose  pfaA    Jeatfi. 

"  Then  when  Mary  was  come  where  Jesus  was,  and  saw  him, 
she  fell  down  at  his  feet,  saying  unto  him,  Lord,  if  thou  hadst 
been  here,  my  brother  had  not  died." — John  xi.  32. 


r  HE  words  of  Mary  are  very  touching  and  nat- 
ural. There  is  a  mingled  gush  of  feeling  in 
^Wr  them,  which  she  herself  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  refer  to  its  different  sources.  All  her  grief 
for  her  dead  brother  bursts  out  afresh,  at  the  sight  of 
one  who  had  been  so  dear  a  friend  to  him,  and  to  her. 
Veneration  and  affection  for  the  Great  Master,  never 
so  drawn  out  as  in  the  hour  of  sorrow,  fill  her  soul. 
"  Mary  fell  down  at  his  feet."  Formerly  she  was  will- 
ing to  sit  at  them.  The  soul  is  never  so  attracted  to 
Christ  as  amid  such  desolation,  — constrained  to  cling 
to  "  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother." 

There  is  continued  confidence  in  Him,  seen  in  her 
address,  Lord — still  Lord,  notwithstanding  all  that 
had  happened,  —  seen  in  the  conviction  that  an  earlier 
arrival  would  have  brought  deliverance,  —  "If  thou 
hadst   been  here,  my   brother  had  not  died,"  —  and 


312  Christ's  delay  to 

leading  to  a  hope  that  He  was  able  to  help  even  in  this 
extremity,  she  could  not  tell  how. 

It  will  be  observed  that  Mary  uses  the  very  same 
words  which  Martha  had  already  employed,  ver.  21. 
The  reason  may  be,  that  they  had  often  used  the  words 
to  one  another.  "  If  Jesus  only  would  come,  —  if  Jesus 
only  had  come,  all  might  be  well."  But  it  seems  re- 
markable that  Mary  does  not  go  on  to  finish  her  appeal 
as  Martha  did,  ver.  22,  —  "  But  I  know,  that  even  now, 
whatsoever  thou  wilt  ask  of  God,  God  will  give  it 
thee."  Was  Mary's  faith  less  strong  than  Martha's  ? 
We  think  not.  Mary's  sentence  was  finished  in  her 
own  heart.  She  had  a  more  intense  and  impetuous 
nature.  With  its  stillness,  there  was  more  deptli  in 
it,  and  she  cannot  give  vent  to  her  feelings  in  words. 
Tears  break  in  upon  and  check  her  utterance,  for  it  is 
immediately  added,  ver.  33,  "  When  Jesus  therefore 
saw  her  weeping."  She  had  fallen  at  his  feet,  and  her 
bursting  emotion  would  not  allow  her  to  say  more, 
"  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not 
died,  but  —  "  and  all  the  faith  expressed  by  Martha, 
though  unuttered  by  Mary's  lips,  is  deep  within  her 
soul. 

Yet  with  this  faith,  there  is  wonder  at  the  absence 
of  Christ  which  verges  almost  on  reproach.  "  Surely 
there  must  have  been  reasons  for  my  Lord's  delay, 
while  we  wept  and  prayed  for  his  coming,  while  every 
morning,  and  through  the  long  day,  our  eyes  sought 
the  hills  where  his  steps  might  be  first  descried.  Why 
so  late  when  this  dead  brother  of  mine,  and  friend  of 
thine,  was  sinking  to  his  grave  ?  "  "  Oh,  the  Hope  of 
Israel,  the  Saviour  thereof  in  time  of  trouble,  why 
shouldst  thou  be  as  a  stranger  in  the  land  ?  " 


INTERPOSE   AGAINST   DEATH.  313 

Such  thoughts  as  these  have  since  passed  through 
many  a  heart,  and  will  do  so  till  the  world's  close. 
What  sore  strokes  befall  us,  in  this  matter  of  death,  from 
which  the  Son  of  God  conld  easily  save  us,  if  his  power 
and  his  pity  be  as  we  are  told !  They  are  very  natural 
thoughts,  natural  above  all,  when  we  watch  by  the 
death-bed  and  weep  over  the  dead.  They  were  felt  by 
Mary  in  Christ's  presence,  and  may  be  felt  by  us  dur- 
ing his  long  absence.  He  has  now  been  away  so  many 
long  days,  and  our  dead  lie  buried,  and  yet  He  comes 
not.  We  shall  seek  to  look  at  the  question  in  the 
light  which  this  narrative  gives.  First,  there  is  the 
strangeness  of  Christ's  delay  to  interpose  against 
death ;  and  second,  some  reasons  that  may  account  for 
it,  suggested  by  this  history.  The  first  may  give  ex- 
pression to  our  doubts  ;  the  second,  help  our  faith. 

I.  THE  STRANGENESS  OF  CHRIST'S  DELAY  TO  INTERPOSE 
AGAINST  DEATH. 

Let  us  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  circumstances 
around  us,  as  Mary  and  Martha  might  to  the  state  of 
their  home  in  the  absence  of  Christ. 

Consider  what  death  is  to  the  sufferer  !  It  is  no  nat- 
ural change,  no  happy  translation  bearing  the  sign  of 
blessedness  on  its  face,  as  the  departure  of  unfallen 
man  might  have  done.  It  is  the  end  of  all  earthly  suf- 
ferings, but,  in  general,  more  dreaded  than  them  all. 
The  token  of  God's  displeasure  against  sin  is  on  it,  and 
the  abiding  shadow  of  his  first  threatening.  Man's 
heart  recoils  from  its  accompaniments, —  the  wasting 
decay  or  the  convulsive  agony,  —  the  farewell  to  the 
only  world  we  have  known,  —  the  rending  asunder  of 


314  Christ's  delay  to 

the  dearest  ties  of  affection,  and  of  those  closest  friends, 
body  and  soul,  —  the  dismissal  of  our  nature  to  the 
corruption  of  the  grave  and  to  a  mysterious  eternity. 

When  we  see  a  friend  moving  forward  to  this  doom, 
what  means  do  we  not  exhaust  to  save  him  ?  When 
Thomas  heard  that  Lazarus  was  dead,  he  said,  "  Let 
us  also  go  that  we  may  die  with  him."  So  did  the 
death  of  a  dear  friend  touch  his  sympathetic  heart. 
Yet  Christ  suffered  Lazarus  to  die.  And  how  many 
have  been  struck  down  by  death  since,  of  the  most 
lovely  and  loving  ?  What  warm  hearts  and  noble  souls 
have  passed  through  that  great  gloom,  and  drunk  of 
that  bitter  cup,  —  beautiful  exceedingly  with  the  beauty 
of  nature  and  with  the  grace  of  the  regenerated  spirit ! 
What  sad  thoughts  we  have  sometimes  about  the  bright 
jewels  that  lie  hidden  in  death's  darkness !  We  were 
stricken  and  stunned  when  death  did  not  spare  them, 
at  the  cruel  untimeliness,  as  it  seemed,  at  the  fierce 
remorselessness  with  which  the  great  enemy  seized 
his  prey.  And  yet  when  we  speak  of  death,  it  had  no 
power  without  Christ's  permission :  "  Lord,  if  thou 
hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not  died." 

Consider  ivhat  a  bereavement  death  is  to  the  survivors  ! 
In  a  Christian  death  it  is  not  the  dead  who  are  to  be 
mourned,  it  is  those  whom  they  leave.  What  anxious 
days  and  nights  were  those  after  the  message  had  been 
sent,  "  Lord,  behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick !  " 
Their  brother  is  sinking  to  his  grave,  as  each  sun  sinks 
over  the  western  hills,  and  there  is  no  token  of  help. 
Their  look  seeks  the  wasting  frame,  and  then  seeks  the 
path  by  which  Jesus  so  often  drew  near.  Has  He 
forgotten  his  friends,  or  does  He  distrust  his  power  ? 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST    DEATH.  315 

Those,  who  have  passed  through  it,  know  what  ages 
of  agony  are  lived,  while  the  wavering  balance  is 
watched  and  slowly  seen  to  sink  against  all  our  strug- 
gles and  prayers. 

And  then  the  anguish  of  the  parting,  —  the  dumb 
despair  that  cannot  find  a  tear,  —  the  hard  apathy,  like 
a  stone  on  a  grave's  mouth,  that  will  not  let  us  feel 
our  way  to  our  loss  to  weep  over  it !  The  slow  groping 
which  follows  to  realize  it,  —  the  struggle,  as  if  emerg- 
ing from  the  stupor  of  death,  to  find  out  what  a  differ- 
ent world  it  is  to  which  we  have  come  back,  —  the  look 
behind  to  years  of  love  which  seem  so  short,  cut  off 
from  us  already  by  an  earthquake's  gulf,  and  strange 
as  if  they  had  never  been  ours,  —  the  look  forward  to 
a  lonely  road  through  a  bleak  world  from  which  one 
blast  of  desolation  has  swept  the  greenness  and  the 
blossom  !  "  Lover  and  friend  hast  thou  put  far  from 
me,  and  mine  acquaintance  into  darkness."  How  often 
has  the  old  wailing  cry  burst  from  human  hearts,  how 
often  the  death-scene  of  Bethany  been  renewed  in  the 
homes  of  men  !  The  childless  mother  and  the  orphan, 
the  wife  and  sister,  lover  and  friend,  have  wrestled  in 
agony  over  the  dying  and  moaned  over  the  dead,  and 
none  seemed  to  listen.  They  felt  there  should  be  pow- 
er of  help  somewhere,  and  writhed  towards  it.  And 
the  appeals  remained  unanswered.  Does  it  not  seem 
strange  ?  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother 
had  not  died." 

Consider  what  a  ground  of  reproach  death  has  fur- 
nished to  the  enemies  of  Christ!  There  was  no  want 
of  unbelieving  Jews  in  Bethany  to  take  advantage  of 
Christ's  absence  in  this  crisis.     Some  of  them  said, 


316  Christ's  delay  to 

"  Could  not  this  man  who  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
have  caused  that  even  this  man  should  not  have  died  ? " 
But,  beyond  this  more  friendly  question,  there  must 
have  been  hard  thoughts  of  unbelief —  the  resolve  to 
read  all  Christ's  past  by  this  delay.  Whisperings  and 
shakings  of  the  head  there  were,  no  doubt,  in  plenty, 
breaking  out  into  open  speech,  as  still  He  came  not. 
"  These  wonderful  histories  and  great  promises  have 
been  brought  to  a  decisive  test,  and  Lazarus,  the  friend 
of  Jesus,  must  die  and  be  buried  like  all  of  us.  Let 
Him  deliver  him,  seeing  He  delighted  in  him."  It 
must  have  added  vinegar  to  the  gall  of  those  sisters' 
grief  to  hear  the  taunt.  Their  faith  was  assailed  from 
without,  when  it  was  questioned  by  their  hearts  within. 
Something  like  the  feeling  of  the  Psalmist  must  have 
been  theirs,  —  "  My  tears  have  been  my  meat  day  and 
night,  while  they  continually  say  unto  me,  Where  is 
thy  God  ?  " 

A  longer  interval  of  death  has  allowed  time  for  a 
louder  concert  of  reproach.  As  we  look  into  the  grave 
after  eacli  new  occupant,  all  is  hushed.  There  is  "  no 
motion  in  the  dead,"  no  breath  in  the  sky  to  whisper 
of  a  coming  dawn.  And  men  of  carnal  sense  gather 
round  and  set  their  seal  upon  the  grave  —  "  Where  is 
the  promise  of  his  coming  ?  for  since  the  fathers  fell 
asleep,  all  things  continue  as  they  were  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  creation."  Even  the  Christian  heart 
feels  as  if  there  were  something  strange  in  the  way  in 
which  Christ  abides  out  of  sight,  and  moves  not  a  step 
for  all  the  scorn.  It  wearies  for  some  interposition  to 
vindicate  his  claim.  "  Arise,  0  God,  plead  thine  own 
cause ;    remember  how  the   foolish    man   reproacheth 


INTERPOSE   AGAINST   DEATH.  317 

thee  daily ;  the  tumult  of  those  that  rise  up  against 
thee  increaseth  continually." 

There  is  still  another  way  in  which  the  strangeness 
of  the  delay  may  strike  us  —  when  we  turn  our  thoughts 
from  our  own  circumstances  to  Christ,  as  the  sisters 
of  Bethany  did,  and  when  we  consider  the  just  expecta- 
tions we  have  of  interposition  from  Him. 

We  believe  that  Christ  is  fully  aware  of  our  need. 
When  a  friend  fails  us  through  innocent  ignorance,  we 
do  not  blame  him.  What  pains  us  is  his  persistent 
absence  when  he  knows  our  extremity.  So  soon  as 
these  sisters  apprehended  danger,  they  sent  the  mes- 
sage to  Jesus,  "  Lord,  behold,  lie  whom  Thou  lovest  is 
sick !  "  They  appear  to  have  added  no  request  to  it. 
"  It  is  enough  if  Jesus  knows  —  this  will  bring  Him  to 
our  side."  And  when  He  did  not  come,  and  day  after 
day  passed  on,  we  can  imagine  the  messenger  questioned 
and  re-questioned  how  he  gave  his  message,  and  how 
the  Master  seemed  to  apprehend  it.  "  Could  He  but 
see  this  wasting  frame  and  our  fears  He  would  not  fail 
us." 

Whatever  Martha  and  Mary  thought  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  Christ,  it  is  our  faith  that  He  understands  all 
our  need.  When  we  send  up  the  prayer,  "  Lord, 
behold,  he  whom  Thou  lovest  is  sick,"  it  is  only  because 
He  will  be  inquired  of  by  us.  With  the  omniscience 
of  the  Son  of  God,  He  sees  the  dwellers"  upon  earth, 
and,  with  the  experience  of  the  Son  of  Man,  He  compre- 
hends their  sorrows.  "  If  you  only  knew  what  I  suffer," 
we  say  to  a  friend,  as  if  his  conception  of  it  would 
call  out  a  sympathy  that  would  bear  us  up  in  its  hands. 
Yet  Christ  knows  it  all.     He  can  draw  nearer  than  the 


318 

nearest,  feel  the  palpitating  heart,  read  the  anguish  we 
cannot  utter  —  and  his  foot  does  not  step  forward  to 
the  rescue.     Is  it  not  strange  ? 

We  believe,  further,  that  Christ  has  full  power  to 
interpose.  The  mourners  of  Bethany  express  their  con- 
viction of  it,  ver.  22  —  "I  know,  that  even  now,  what- 
soever thou  wilt  ask  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee." 
And  Christ  expresses  it  in  his  prayer  to  his  Father, 
ver.  42  —  "I  know  that  thou  nearest  me  always."  For 
it  is  our  faith  that  He  has  not  only  the  omnipotence  of 
Divinity,  but  the  moral  right  and  power  from  having 
paid  the  ransom  price.  When  He  said  upon  his  cross, 
"  It  is  finished,"  God  raised  Him  from  the  dead,  and 
set  Him  at  his  own  right  hand  in  heavenly  places,  as 
the  sign  that  the  way  is  clear  to  abolish  death  —  to 
destroy  it  for  ever  in  regard  to  all  who  look  to  Him  as 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.  Who,  in  this,  could 
resist  his  will  ?  The  keys  of  the  unseen  world  and  of 
death  hang  at  his  girdle.  That  He  should  be  so  slow 
to  put  his  authority  into  exercise,  when  such  tides  of 
suffering  would  be  rolled  back,  and  such  a  flood  of  over- 
whelming joy  set  in,  must  occasion  to  many  Christians 
strange  thoughts. 

For,  last  of  all,  on  this  part  of  the  subject,  tve  cannot 
doubt  the  desire  of  Christ  to  interpose.  The  evangelist 
is  careful  to  remind  us  of  this  feature  of  it,  ver.  5  — 
"  Now  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus. 
When  He  had  heard  therefore  that  he  was  sick  He 
abode  two  days  still  in  the  same  place  where  He  was." 
It  is  a  strange  therefore  which  conjoins  such  love  and 
seeming  indifference.  Then  follows  that  account  of 
the  conduct  of  Christ  which  is  filled  with  such  everlast- 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST    DEATH.  319 

ing  consolation  to  a  dying  world,  and  which  yet  sug- 
gests so  many  wondering  questions,  ver.  33  —  "  When 
Jesus  therefore  saw  her  weeping,  and  the  Jews  also 
weeping  which  came  with  her,  He  groaned  in  the 
spirit  and  was  troubled,  and  said,  Where  have  ye  laid 
him  ?  They  said  unto  Him,  Lord,  come  and  see.  Jesus 
wept." 

But,  if  He  felt  so  deeply  for  his  friends,  why  did  He 
not  come  sooner  to  comfort  them  and  interpose  in  their 
behalf?  And,  if  He  meant  now  to  interpose,  and  knew 
what  He  was  about  to  do  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  why 
should  He  weep  ?  However  we  may  answer  such 
questions,  we  must  never  doubt  that  the  tears  of  Christ 
were  not  seeming,  but  deeply  real,  and  that  the  groans 
of  his  spirit  came  from  true  sympathy  with  human  sor- 
row. He  wept  as  those  mourners  did,  although  he 
might  weep  with  "  larger,  other  eyes  than  theirs  "  — 
weeping,  not  with  them  only,  but  with  mourners  with- 
out number,  as  He  looked  abroad  over  the  world,  and 
down  through  all  time  —  with  every  bereaved  heart, 
and  with  each  solitary  soul  which  thinks  that  its  way 
is  hid  from  the  Lord,  and  its  judgment  passed  over  by 
its  God.  Yet  here  our  perplexity  still  rises.  If  so  He 
feels,  and  if  He  has  power  and  right  to  interpose,  why 
does  He  delay  so  long?  "  He  abides  still  in  the  same 
place,"  and  leaves  us  pining  in  sickness,  agonizing  in 
pain,  bowed  down  in  sorrow,  and  going  forward  to  mix 
our  tears  and  our  dust  in  a  common  grave.  We  cry 
like  the  disciples  in  the  storm  to  their  sleeping  Master, 
"  Lord,  carest  thou  not  that  we  perish  ?  "  and  to  us  he 
does  not  awake  so  soon.  "  0  the  Hope  of  Israel,  why 
shouldest  thou  be  as  a  man  astonied,  as  a  mighty  man 


320  Christ's  delay  to 

that  cannot  save  ?     Yet  thou,  0  Lord,  art  in  the  midst 
of  us,  and  we  are  called  by  thy  name  "  (Jer.  xiv.  8). 

Our  very  confidence  in  Christ's  ability  and  willing- 
ness to  help  us,  thus  becomes  the  occasion  of  bewilder- 
ing doubts,  and  our  faith  passes  through  that  painful 
struggle,  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief." 
We  consider,  then, 

II.  Some  of  the  reasons  for  Christ's  delay  which 

MAY  BE  FOUND  IN  THIS  HISTORY. 

We  say  "  in  this  history."  Other  reasons  might  be 
found  in  the  whole  Divine  plan,  as  it  is  revealed  in  the 
Bible,  and  others  probably  there  are  outside  the  Bible 
and  our  present  life,  in  the  unknown  counsels  and  uni- 
verse of  God.  Yet  even  from  this  history  much  may 
be  drawn,  if  we  examine  it  with  attention.  The  works 
of  Christ  are  all  of  them  mirrors  for  the  history  of  the 
world,  bringing  into  a  small  compass  what  is  perma- 
nently and  universally  true,  and,  if  the  Spirit  takes  of 
the  things  that  are  Christ's  and  shows  them  unto  us,  we 
may  have  light  on  some  of  the  difficult  questions  that 
concern  our  own  life  and  death.  We  shall  try  to  follow 
these  reasons  in  the  order  suggested  by  the  narrative 
itself. 

One  reason  why  Christ  delays  to  interpose  against 
death  is,  that  his  friends  may  learn  confidence  in  Him 
when  dying,  and  have  an  opjjoi-tiinity  of  showing  it.  We 
have  no  account  of  the  manner  of  Lazarus's  death,  and 
we  shall  not  seek  to  imagine  it.  It  may  have  been  a 
joyful  one  in  its  expression,  —  or  simply  peaceful, — 
or  silent,  as  many  a  good  man  dies  and  gives  no  sign. 
But  the  truth  remains  in  all,  that  death  is  a  great  sea- 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST    DEATH.  321 

son  of  instruction  to  the  friends  of  Christ.  Sometimes 
we  can  see  the  process ;  at  other  times  it  is  between 
Him  and  the  soul  alone  —  sometimes  it  may  be  slow, 
or,  again,  as  rapid  as  in  the  lesson  He  gave  on  his  cross 
to  him  who  hung  beside  Him  ;  but  we  must  believe 
that  the  period  of  death  has  its  peculiar  use  in  every 
spiritual  history. 

The  great  end  of  Christ's  dealing  with  any  soul  is  to 
convince  it  that  in  Him  it  has  an  all-sufficient  life,  and 
that  with  Him  it  can  pass  safely  through  every  emer- 
gency. We  have  to  learn  that  we  are  "  complete  in 
Him"  We  can  never  learn  this  in  words  or  by  think- 
ing. It  must  be  taught  us  in  the  reality  of  life  itself. 
He  takes  away  from  us  one  thing  after  another  —  the 
friends,  the  affections,  the  aims  of  youth, —  while  He 
becomes  to  us  a  deeper  and  truer  possession.  But  this 
course  of  teaching  would  want  its  crown  if  it  did  not 
end  in  death.  Death  is  the  withdrawal  of  all  human 
supports  from  around  the  soul,  of  its  closest  affections, 
of  its  earth-born  vesture  and  home,  of  the  very  body 
which  is  its  second  self — that  it  may  be  alone  with 
Christ,  and  feel  Him  to  be  enough  for  it  —  more  to  it 
than  every  created  thing.  He  invites  the  soul,  and 
constrains  it,  to  put  all  its  confidence  into  that  last  act 
of  surrender  —  to  cast  itself,  bare  of  every  aid,  but  his, 
into  the  mysterious  infinite,  —  knowing  Him  in  whom 
it  believes,  and  feeling  that  underneath  it  are  his  ever- 
lasting arms.  For  a  soul  to  learn  this  perfect  confi- 
dence in  Christ,  it  must  die. 

On  the  part  of  Christ,  again,  it  is  the  last  touch  of 
that  purifying  fire  which  He  employs  to  melt  the  fallen 
nature,  —  free  it  from  its  dross,  —  and  fuse  it  into  his 

21 


322  CHRIST'S    DELAY   TO 

own  likeness  for  access  to  Himself  in  the  heaven  of 
heavens.  It  is  not  by  any  mechanical  process  that  He 
thus  purines  the  soul.  It  can  only  be  by  a  close  spir- 
itual approach  to  it.  But  we  know  something  of  this 
manner  of  dealing  with  us,  even  in  life.  There  are 
supreme  moments  of  experience  when  we  seem  to  live 
ages,  and  when  all  our  past  history  ripens  into  God's 
one  great  lesson  for  us.  Such  a  moment  is  that  of 
death,  in  which  Christ  matures  the  soul  for  the  life  to, 
come  —  draws  it  aside  to  Himself —  presses  it,  in  soli- 
tude and  secrecy,  for  a  while  to  his  own  heart  and 
fulfils  his  words,  —  "If  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for 
you,  /will  come  again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself ; 
that  where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also." 

And  yet,  sometimes,  it  is  not  done  so  secretly  but 
that  the  sparkles  which  fall  from  the  jewel  reveal  what 
He  is  doing  for  it,  and  where  He  means  to  set  it.  The 
looks  and  words  of  a  Christian,  when  dying,  are  part 
of  the  end  for  which  Christ  permits  death.  It  is  that 
dying,  as  well  as  living,  he  may  show  himself  to  be  the 
Lord's.  To  accomplish  all  this  for  the  soul,  and  through 
it,  Christ  delays  his  interposition,  and  the  difficulty  in 
the  case  of  Lazarus  is  not  so  much  that  he  died,  as 
that  he  was  brought  back  from  the  grave  to  fight  life's 
battle  a  second  time. 

Another  reason  why  Christ  permits  death  is,  that  the 
sorroiving  friends  may  learn  entire  reliance  on  Him.  It 
is  a  subject  for  study  in  this  chapter  how  Christ  le.ids 
on  these  sisters  from  a  dead  brother  to  the  Resurrec- 
tion and  the  Life,  and  teaches  them  through  their  loss 
to  gain  what  they  never  could  lose  any  more.  Had  He 
snatched  Lazarus  from  the  brink  of  death,  they  would 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST    DEATH.  323 

have  trembled  again  at  his  every  sickness,  but,  when 
they  learn  to  find  their  brother  in  Christ,  they  are 
secure  of  him  for  ever,  and  they  discover  in  Christ  him- 
self more  than  their  heart  conceived,  — 

"  One  deep  love  doth  supersede 
All  other,  when  her  ardent  gaze 
Roves  from  the  living  brother's  face, 
And  rests  upon  the  Life  indeed." 

Christ  separates  our  friends  from  us  for  a  while  that 
we  may  learn  to  find  our  all  in  Himself.  He  makes 
their  grave  the  seed-bed  of  immortal  hopes,  which  shall 
give  us  back  every  thing  that  is  good  in  the  past,  and  a 
joy  with  it  like  the  joy  of  harvest.  The  expression  of 
our  resignation  in  bereavement  is  as  much  a  triumph 
of  his  grace  as  the  calmness  He  gives  to  our  dying 
friends.  When  Martha  and  Mary  can  still  call  Him 
"  Lord"  and  when  their  "  hope  can  smile  on  all  other 
hopes  gone  from  them,"  —  when  they  can  clasp  Christ 
as  their  portion  amid  desolation  around  and  within, — 
Christ  Himself  is  justified  in  the  permission  of  death. 

Another  reason  which  follows  this  in  the  order  both 
of  the  narrative  and  of  nature  is,  that,  in  the  midst  of 
death,  the  union  of  sympathy  between  Christ  and  his 
friends  is  perfected.  Jesus  had  given  many  convincing 
proofs  of  his  love  to  the  household  of  Bethany  while 
Lazarus  lived,  but  none  with  that  touching  tenderness 
in  it  which  came  forth  at  his  grave.  The  fellowship 
of  suffering  brings  hearts  and  lives  together  more  than 
all  the  fellowship  of  joy.  There  must  have  been  a  Di- 
vine compassion  in  the  Redeemer's  look  which  melted 
Mary's  soul  as  she  fell  at  his  feet  and  felt  that  her 
grief  was  also  his.     And  when  his  grief  broke  out  into 


324 


that  trouble  of  spirit  at  the  grave,  when  his  heart  was 
overpowered  by  it  and  Jesus  wept,  —  the  mourners 
knew  that  He  was  one  with  them.  Gethsemane  shows 
us  the  agony  of  Christ's  soul  for  man's  sin —  the  grave 
of  Bethany  his  agony  of  heart  at  man's  suffering.  All 
that  sad,  sorrowful  walk  to  the  sepulchre  where  He 
mingled  his  tears  with  theirs,  was  as  necessary  to  make 
them  feel  the  sympathy  of  his  soul,  as  was  the  great 
deliverance  when  He  said  "  Lazarus,  come  forth."  Nor 
need  we  be  at  all  stumbled  by  the  objection  that  He 
could  not  feel  so  deeply  since  He  knew  what  he  was 
about  to  do.  A  man  may  pity  the  breaking  heart  of 
a  child  although  he  can  see  away  beyond  its  short  sor- 
row, and  God  pities  us  in  the  midst  of  our  life's  troubles 
though  He  perceives  the  speedy  end  of  them.  Be  very 
sure  of  this,  that  Christ's  grief  was  as  genuine  as  theirs, 
—  and  that  the  compassion  of  God  and  of  his  Son  is 
as  true  at  every  step  of  the  road  to  the  grave  as  it  is 
when  it  rises  up  at  last  into  full  redemption  and  the 
gate  of  the  grave  is  thrown  wide  open.  To  form  this 
fellowship  of  suffering  on  the  way  to  death  is  one  rea- 
son why  Christ  permits  it.  He  says,  "  When  thou 
passest  through  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee,"  and 
we  are  brought  to  reply,  "  We  did  pass  through  the 
flood  on  foot,  there  did  we  rejoice  in  Him." 

Consider  this  further,  that  it  is  by  delaying  to  inter- 
pose against  death  that  God  makes  this  a  world  of  spir- 
itual probation.  When  He  abode  in  the  same  place 
and  lingered- on  his  way  to  Bethany,  Christ  tried  the 
character,  not  only  of  the  sisters,  but  of  all  who  knew 
the  case.  Superficiality  fell  away,  —  secret  unbelief 
broke  out  into  scorn, —  and  those  alone  stood  the  test 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST    DEATH.  325 

whose  souls  had  sought  and  found  in  Him  what  the 
soul  needs.  Christ's  delays  are  the  touchstones  of 
spiritual  life. 

You  who  would  have  Him  never  suffer  the  tears  of 
his  people  to  fall, —  who  would  wish  Him  to  heal  his 
friends  so  soon  as  they  are  sick,  —  or  raise  them  to 
life  the  instant  that  they  die,  reflect  on  what  you  ask. 
You  would  lead  men  to  seek  Him,  not  from  the  love 
they  bear  Himself,  but  from  their  desire  for  his  out- 
ward benefits,  and  would  create,  in  your  impatience,  a 
world  of  formalism  and  hypocrisy,  —  the  very  world 
which  God  disproved  in  the  face  of  Satan  when  he  said, 
"Doth  Job  fear  God  for  nought?"  But  God  defers 
the  time  for  interposition  —  makes  all  things  outwardly 
come  alike  to  all,  —  and  causes  calamity  and  death  to 
visit  with  an  impartial  step  the  homes  of  his  friends, 
—  in  order  that  he  may  sift  men's  characters  and  pre- 
pare them  for  the  day  of  judgment.  Those  who  would 
have  Christ  interpose  immediately  against  death  mis- 
take entirely  the  structure  of  the  world  we  are  placed 
in.  To  be  consistent,  they  should  go  back  and  remon- 
strate against  the  creation  of  responsible  agents,  and 
the  possibility  of  sin  which  flows  from  it.  Death  is 
the  consequence  of  these  things,  and  it  is  at  the  same 
time  a  veil  let  down  over  the  face  of  God's  throne,  to 
hide  spiritual  things  from  the  eye  of  sense,  and  to 
make  faith  the  instrument  of  the  soul's  recovery  and 
training.  Death  cannot  be  abolished  until  the  history 
of  this  world  is  completed. 

We  mention,  as  a  last  reason  for  Christ's  delay  to 
interpose  against  death,  that  he  brings  in  thereby  a 
grander  final  issue.     Had  He  come  and  arrested  this 


326 


sickness  midway,  or  raised  Lazarus  to  life  so  soon  as 
he  died,  the  gladness  of  the  friends  would  not  have 
been  so  great,  nor  would  his  own  triumph  over  death 
have  been  so  illustrious.  But  He  patiently  waits  his 
hour,  while  the  mourners  weep  and  the  scoffers  scorn. 
Men  must  interpose  when  they  can,  but  the  Son  of 
God  interposes  when  He  wills.  The  wisdom  with 
which  He  chooses  his  time  makes  his  delay  not  callous 
nor  cruel,  but  considerate  of  our  best  interests  in  with- 
holding for  a  while  that  he  may  bless  us  at  last  with 
an  overflowing  hand.  Could  the  mourners  see  it  as 
He  does,  they  would  willingly  acquiesce,  and  would 
go  forth,  patiently  sowing  in  tears  that  they  might  have 
a  more  abundant  reaping-time  of  joy. 

It  is  in  this  interval  of  delay  that  our  life  is  cast. 
The  world  is  represented  by  this  home  of  Bethany 
before  Christ  reached  the  grave,  and  all  the  phases  of 
character,  and  all  the  stages  of  Christ's  progressive 
advance,  may  be  seen  in  the  hearts  of  men  around  us. 
But  at  whatever  step  of  his  journey  man's  faith  may 
discern  Him,  He  is  surely  on  his  way.  The  tide  of 
eternal  life  is  setting  in  toward  the  world  of  graves, 
and  its  swell  and  its  murmur  can  be  already  perceived 
by  all  who  have  a  soul  to  feel  the  heaving  of  Christ's 
heart.  Amid  the  tears  and  sobs  of  the  bereaved 
friends  whose  sorrows  still  touch  Him,  He  is  moving 
to  the  sepulchre.  His  presence,  though  unseen,  can 
be  heard  and  felt  in  whispered  consolations,  —  in  the 
faith  and  hope  which  his  Spirit  infuses  into  the  soul. 
Those,  who  know  Him  for  what  He  is,  recognize  a 
Friend  who  weeps  in  sympathy  with  them,  and  who 
walks  by  their  side  to  the  tomb  which  his  voice  shall 


INTERPOSE    AGAINST   DEATH.  327 

yet  open.  The  delay  seems  long,  but  He  counts  the 
hours  as  we  do ;  and  not  for  a  single  one  shall  He  linger 
beyond  what  infinite  wisdom  sees  fit.  One  result  of 
this  delay  shall  be  a  grander  final  issue.  He  permits 
his  friends  to  descend  with  broken  ranks  into  the  swell- 
ings of  Jordan,  but  He  shall  lead  them  forth  on  the 
other  side  in  one  fully  marshalled  and  bannered  host. 
He  puts  the  jewels  one  by  one  into  his  crown  within 
the  secret  of  his  palace,  that  He  may  bring  them  out 
at  last  resplendent  and  complete  as  a  royal  diadem 
from  the  hand  of  his  God.  Patient  waiting  shall  have 
its  full  compensation  on  that  day,  and  Divine  delay 
justify  itself  before  the  universe  in  glorious  and  ever- 
lasting results.  Could  we  see  to  the  end,  it  would 
reconcile  us  even  now.  He  discerns  it  for  us,  and 
withholds  his  hand  from  premature  and  imperfect 
interference.  After  their  burst  of  weeping,  He  hushes 
the  separate  voices  for  a  season  in  the  silence  of  death, 
till  they  can  awake  and  sing  in  full  harmony,  that  their 
united  praise  may  still  the  enemy  and  the  avenger,  and 
be  his  glory  and  their  own  joy  for  ever. 

One  thing  connected  with  all  these  reasons,  and  im- 
pressed upon  us  by  the  present  narrative,  cannot  be 
omitted,  that  there  is  a  fitness  in  Christ  being  absent 
from  the  world  while  death  reigns.  Mary  felt  this, 
"  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not 
died."  Christ  could  not  be  present  and  see  death 
strike  down  his  friends  without  interposing.  We 
never  read  that  this  enemy  of  man  was  permitted  to 
exercise  his  power  before  the  open  face  of  the  Son 
of  God.  It  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  honor  of 
Him  who  is  the  Lord  of  life.     And  therefore  Christ 


328  Christ's  delay  to 

must  be  absent  from  the  world  while  death  and  the 
grave  maintain  their  sway.  This  is  befitting  his 
dignity,  and  it  furnishes  one  reason  more  why  we 
should  desire  the  appearing  of  that  blessed  and  gra- 
cious face  before  which  death  and  every  shadow  shall 
flee  away.  Meantime  He  gathers  the  fold  of  his  cloud 
over  his  countenance,  that  we  may  not  think  He  looks 
with  cold  indifference  on  our  anguish,  until  He  shall 
withdraw  the  veil  fully  and  for  ever.  Happy  those  to 
whose  eye  of  faith  the  cloud  is  already  pierced,  and 
who  feel  in  the  heart  that  sunshine  of  his  face  which 
shall  give  life  and  light  at  last  to  all  the  dead  in 
Christ. 

What  a  miserable  earth  would  it  be  without  this 
hope,  without  this  possession !  —  the  desolate  home 
of  Bethany  without  the  great  Friend  —  men  dying, 
mourners  weeping,  graves  filling  up,  and  death  reign- 
ing for  ever !  Why  then  should  a  world  exist  to  pass 
through  ceaseless  anguish  to  such  a  close,  —  to  be  a 
wide  eternal  burying-ground,  where  tears  are  only 
dried  on  the  cheek  by  death,  but  never  wiped  away  by 
the  hand  of  God  ?  How  should  our  hearts  leap  up 
with  exulting  joy  to  think  that  there  is  a  Christ,  and 
how  should  we  thank  Him,  as  we  alone  can,  by  accept- 
ing Him  as  God's  unspeakable  gift!  There  is  a  way 
of  being  certain  of  this  blessed  hope,  by  having  Him 
now  in  the  soul  as  its  life.  If  we  are  quickened  from 
the  death  of  trespasses  and  sins,  and  raised  up  to  sit 
with  Him  even  now  in  heavenly  places,  we  know  that 
He  can  and  will  redeem  us  from  the  power  of  the  grave. 
There  must  be  a  world  in  reserve  for  such,  a  divine 
life.     It  will  no  more  be  an  incredible  thing  with  us 


INTERPOSE   AGAINST    DEATH.  329 

that  God  should  raise  the  dead.  And  now,  on  the 
way,  the  great  Lord  and  Giver  of  life  is  pressing  on 
you  his  gracious  offer,  without  which  immortality  has 
no  ray  of  clearness  or  of  joy.  Jesus  said,  "  I  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life :  he  that  believeth  in  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  ;  and  whosoever 
liveth  and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die  !  Believest 
thou  this  ? "  See  that  ye  refuse  not  Him  that  speaketh, 
and  rest  not  till  with  all  your  heart  you  can  reply, 
"  Yea,  Lord :  I  believe  that  thou  art  the  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God,  which  should  come  into  the  world." 


XIX. 


Judas  ami  ife  JJriesfc.     jn&  of  1  nil  % 


jssociafion. 

"  Saying;  I  have  sinned,  in  that  I  have  betrayed  the  innocent 
blood.  And  they  said,  What  is  that  to  us  ?  See  thou  to  that."  — 
Matt,  xxvii.  4. 

CERTAIN  gloss  of  interpretation  has  come 
)   in  of  late  upon  the  character  of  Judas,  which 
tries  to  present  it  in  a  milder  light  than  that 
in  which  it  was  formerly  regarded. 

It  is  said,  that,  after  all,  he  may  not  have  intended  to 
betray  his  master  to  the  death  of  the  cross.  He  was 
one  of  those  Jews  who  believed  very  strongly  in  an 
earthly  kingdom,  and  in  the  mission  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth to  establish  it,  —  an  error  which  he  shared  with 
his  fellow-disciples.  He  was  more  impatient  than  the 
rest  to  bring  Jesus  to  declare  for  it,  and  took  a  very 
rash  step  to  gain  his  end.  His  hope  was  that  when 
Christ  was  in  the  hands  of  the  high  priest  and  the 
Roman  governor,  He  would  throw  away  all  reserve, 
and  come  forth  as  a  conqueror  and  king.  It  was,  in. 
short,  not  the  money  Judas  looked  to,  but  the  idea. 
He  was  not,  in  the  proper  sense,  guilty  of  treachery, 
but  of  a  mistake,  and  merely  sought  to  thrust  Christ 


JUDAS   AND   THE   PRIESTS.  331 

from  the  temple  pinnacle,  in  the  belief  that  he  would 
rise  to  a  loftier  position. 

However  this  particular  comment  may  have  been 
intended,  it  is  one  of  a  class  which  begins  by  effacing 
what  it  reckons  dark  spots  in  the  Bible,  and  ends  by 
darkening  the  bright.  There  are  depths  and  heights 
in  the  mystery  of  sin  and  salvation  which  go  together, 
and  whatever  takes  away  from  the  possibility  of  the 
soul's  fall,  weakens  its  capacity  for  ascent.  If  all  sin 
could  be  shown  to  be  only  a  mistake  of  judgment, 
there  would  be  no  need  of  Christ  and  redemption 
through  his  blood,  and  with  the  ineffable  sorrows 
would  depart  the  infinite  joys. 

The  attempt  may  seem  ingenious,  but  in  some  things 
ingenuity  is  the  worst  token  of  truth.  The  Bible  has 
no  doubt  still  much  to  be  found  out  by  diligent  search, 
but  in  an  estimate  of  character,  in  the  very  centre  of 
New-Testament  history,  the  immense  probability  is 
that  the  judgment  of  centuries  and  of  the  Church 
universal  is  right. 

It  is  a  gloss  that  is  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  the 
drift  of  the  Gospel  narrative.  The  character  of  Judas 
is  streaked  long  before  with  the  sin  which  led  to  his 
final  crime.  He  murmured  at  the  token  of  affection 
which  was  given  to  Christ,  because  he  wished  to  turn 
it  to  his  own  covetous  advantage.  He  was  a  thief,  and 
he  had  the  bag,  and  hypocritically  put  forward  the 
poor  as  a  pretext  to  gain  his  own  selfish  ends.  When 
he  went  out  on  his  treacherous  errand  it  is  said,  "  Sa- 
tan entered  into  him,"  and  though  this  has  been  com- 
pared with  our  Lord's  word  to  Peter  (Matt.  xvi.  23), 
"  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,"  the  expression  of  fact 


332  JUDAS   AND   THE   PRIESTS. 

in  a  calm  narrative  is  surely  very  different  from  the 
indignant  rejection  which  our  Lord  applied,  not  to  the 
apostle,  but  to  his  suggestion.  When  Judas  went  out 
on  his  errand  he  went  alone,  as  feeling  that  he  had  no 
sympathy  in  the  hearts  of  the  rest.  He  chose  night 
and  secrecy  for  his  bargain.  He  covenanted  to  take 
money,  and  did  take  it,  and  if  the  amount  was  paltry 
for  so  great  a  crime,  it  proves  not  that  there  was  any 
higher  motive,  but  that  covetousness  can  bring  down 
the  soul  to  the  most  miserable  price. 

Much  has  been  founded  on  the  expression  (Matt, 
xxvii.  3),  "Judas,  which  had  betrayed  him,  when  He 
saw  that  he  was  condemned,"  —  as  if  he  had  expected 
that  Christ  would  free  Himself  before  it  came  so  far ; 
but  the  remorse  of  Judas  at  this  moment  can  be  per- 
fectly explained  by  the  full  consequences  of  his  act 
now  looking  him  in  the  face.  It  is  the  murderer's  hor- 
ror when  the  deed  is  committed  and  cannot  be  undone  — 
that  awful  revulsion  which,  among  all  calculations,  is 
never  reckoned  on. 

Moreover,  if  he  had  expected  Christ  to  free  Himself, 
as  this  theory  of  Judas  affirms,  his  despair  should  not 
have  commenced  so  early.  Judas  should  not  have 
ceased  to  hope  till  the  crucifixion  was  complete.  Many 
of  Christ's  past  interpositions  had  taken  place  in  ex- 
tremity, and  why  not  now  ?  It  is  clear  that  it  was 
not  a  mistake  but  a  crime  that  was  revealed  by  the 
lightning-flash  thrown  in  upon  his  soul.  His  words 
prove  this :  "I  have  sinned,  in  that  I  have  betrayed 
the  innocent  blood."  To  tone  them  down  to  the  dis- 
covery of  a  misapprehension,  is  to  rob  them  of  all 
their  meaning,  and  of  that  lesson,  so  deep  and  far- 


END    OP   EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  333 

reaching,  which  the  Church  of  Christ  has  always  read 
in  this  event,  —  the  greatest  sin  lying  like  a  black 
shadow  beneath  the  world's  brightest  light. 

The  chief  purpose  for  which  we  wish  to  use  this  pas- 
sage is  to  show  the  end  to  which  association  in  sin 
conducts.  Men  join  hand  in  hand  for  a  wicked  object, 
out  of  which  they  hope  for  common  profit.  For  a 
while  the  alliance  lasts,  and  evil  seems  to  have  its  laws 
and  power  of  coherence  as  well  as  good.  But  conflict- 
ing interests  rise,  and  then  the  nature  of  the  union  is 
apparent.  Sin  began  by  severing  the  bond  between 
man  and  his  Maker,  and  what  other  bond  can  hence- 
forth have  any  permanence  ?  If  left  to  do  its  will  it 
would  disintegrate  God's  universe  into  atoms  of  self- 
ishness.  While  the  Cross  of  Christ  was  being  raised 
as  the  centre  of  spiritual  attraction  —  Divine  self-sacri- 
fice, —  here,  around  its  base,  and  in  wonderful  con- 
nection with  it,  sin  was  permitted  to  exhibit  its 
character  of  repulsion  in  the  darkest  colors.  There 
are  two  instructive  sides  in  the  separation  which 
takes  place,  and  we  shall  consider  them  in  order,  — 
Judas  and  his  state  of  mind  ;  the  chief  priests  and 
their  conduct  toward  him. 

I.  The  first  tiling  is,  Judas,  and  the  state  of  mind 

TO    WHICH    HE   IS    BROUGHT. 

The  most  striking  way,  perhaps,  in  which  we  can 
consider  this,  is  to  attempt  to  trace  in  Judas  that  fea- 
ture of  sin  to  which  we  have  made  reference,  —  its 
tendency  to  isolate  the  man  who  perseveres  in  it,  till 
he  is  left  all  alone.  He  begins  in  the  guilt  of  selfish- 
ness and  ends  in  its  utter  solitude. 


334  JUDAS   AND    THE   PRIESTS. 

The  first  effect  of  his  sin  is  separation  from  human 
companionship.     Up  to  this  time,  he  had  lived  in  the 
outward   fellowship  of  Christ  and  the   other  chosen 
eleven.     It  may  seem  strange  to  us  that  Christ  should 
ever  have  admitted  Judas  to  that  number.     The  only 
reasonable  account  of  it  which  we  can  form  is   this, 
that  our  Lord  acted  by  Judas  as  He  did  by  all  the 
rest.     He  accepted  him  on  the  ground  of  a  profession 
which  was  consistent  as  far  as  human  eye  could  see. 
Christ  himself  received  members  into  his  church  as 
He  intended  that  we  should  receive  them,  —  for,  had 
He  used  his  Divine  omniscience  in  his  judgments,  the 
whole  structure  of  his  life  would  have  been  out  of  our 
reach  as  an  example.  Judas  accordingly  entered  among 
the  apostles,  because,  in  all  outward  things,  and  even 
in  some  inward  convictions,  he  was  like  them.      He 
came  under   the   same   influences,  —  listened  to   the 
same    invitations    and   warnings,  —  and    they    were 
meant  as  truly  for  Judas  as  for  the  rest.     It  would 
have  gladdened  the  heart  of  Christ  had  Judas  yielded 
to  the  voice  of  mercy.     It  is  not  any  question  for  us 
how  then  the  Saviour  could  have  suffered  for  the  sins 
of  men,  any  more  than  it  is  a  question  how  the  history 
of  the  world  would  proceed  without  the  sinful  deeds 
which  are  permitted  by   God  and  gathered  by  Him 
into  the  final  result.     The  plan  of  the  universe,  in  its 
lowest  or  its  highest  part,  does  not  rest  on  the  doom 
of  any  man  to  be  a  sinner.     God  forbid  !     There  are 
manifold    doors   in    the   Divine   purpose   which    God 
may  open  or  shut  as  He  pleases,  but  there  is  one 
always  shut,  —  that  God  should  tempt  any  man  to 
evil,  —  and  there  is  one  for  ever  open,  —  that  He  wills 


END    OF    EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  335 

not  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but  that  he  should  turn 
and  live.  Whatever  difficulties  may  be  in  these  ques- 
tions of  freedom  and  decree,  we  can  never  permit  tire 
speck  of  one  to  touch  the  Divine  purity  and  mercy. 
If  Judas  had  come,  he  would  have  been  welcomed  as 
any  other. 

But  he  did  not  come,  and  gradually  the  gulf  in  his 
secret  soul  must  have  widened  between  him  and  those 
with  whom  he  outwardly  walked.  He  was  with  them, 
but  not  of  them,  and  slowly  this  must  have  become 
apparent  to  his  own  consciousness.  Next  in  grievous- 
ness  to  the  havoc  which  a  hidden  sin  works  in  a  man's 
nature,  is  the  separation  of  his  heart  from  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  good  around  him,  —  the  sense  of  shame 
and  degradation  with  which  he  must  compare  their 
estimate  of  him  with  what  he  really  is.  He  is  held  to 
them  by  custom  and  repute,  —  sometimes  by  a  feeling 
of  the  needed  check  which  their  society  exercises  over 
him,  —  and  yet  he  is  more  and  more  repelled  by  the 
want  of  sympathy  and  by  the  necessity  for  hypocrisy 
which  becomes  every  day  more  irksome. 

Yet  so  long  as  the  great  overt  act  was  not  com- 
mitted, Judas  could  continue  in  the  circle  of  his  for- 
mer friends.  Happy  influences  were  still  breathing 
round  him ;  he  felt  that  a  change  of  course  was  yet 
open,  and  he  soothed  his  conscience  perhaps  with  the 
thought  of  one  day  taking  it.  If  any  man  is  in  this 
position,  let  him  not  delay.  It  is  something  to  hold 
on  to  the  society  of  the  true  and  good  ;  but  it  is  always 
dishonorable  to  do  it  falsely,  and  the  connection  may 
be  broken  at  any  moment  if  we  do  not  join  them  in 
our  inmost  soul. 


336  JUDAS   AND   THE   PEIESTS. 

The  sin  of  Judas,  long  cherished  and  slowly  grow- 
ing, broke  out  at  last  with  terrible  and  open  power, 
and  changed  his  whole  position.  It  is  a  great  mistake 
to  say  that  sin  in  the  heart  is  the  very  same  as  sin 
thrown  into  a  deliberate  and  daring  act.  They  are  in 
the  same  line,  as  our  Lord  has  taught  us,  but  the 
external  act  gives  evil  a  power  which  it  had  not  before, 
and  which  may  prove  fatally  destructive.  It  is  like  a 
combustible  material,  which,  if  once  exploded,  may 
leave  the  man's  nature  a  shattered  and  hopeless  wreck. 
To  repress  sin  from  the  actual  life  is  something,  —  only 
let  it  not  stop  there,  else  it  is  a  constant  deception  and 
danger. 

When  Judas  let  the  character  which  he  had  slowly 
formed  go  out  into  his  terrible  treachery,  he  felt  as  it 
a  bridge  were  broken  behind  him.  In  that  bewilder- 
ing night  in  the  garden,  he  was  swept  from  the  side  of 
Christ,  and  only  then  did  he  begin  to  realize  what  he 
had  done  and  what  he  had  lost.  He  could  no  more 
look  upon  the  face  of  the  Master  he  had  sold.  The 
trustful  happy  circle  of  the  twelve  was  broken,  and 
he,  of  them  all,  was  left  utterly  alone.  However  they 
might  meet  in  secret,  and  fearfully,  to  speak  of  their 
past  and  their  future,  —  of  the  death  of  their  love 
and  hope,  —  he  felt  that  he  had  no  more  part  nor  lot 
among  them.  There  is  not  any  distance  in  space  or 
time,  —  not  any  change  in  circumstances,  —  which  will 
so  cut  a  man  off  from  his  fellow-men  as  one  sin  will 
do.  But  it  will  generally  be  found  that  this  sin  is  the 
outcome  of  a  secret  life  which  stands  disclosed  by  it 
It  is  God's  way  of  letting  us  see,  even  now,  what  final 
judgment  will  disclose,  —  the  revelation  of  an  utter 


END   OF   EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  337 

incompatibility,  which  makes  a  man  seek  no  more  a 
fellowship  where  he  never  had  a  true  share. 

In  his  terrible  solitude,  Judas  turned  to  his  employ- 
ers and  accomplices.  It  could  scarcely  be  in  the  hope 
of  forming  any  new  ties.  Friendships  were  not  at 
present  in  his  thoughts,  and  not  to  be  looked  for  in 
that  circle.  There  was  the  pressure  of  despair  on  him, 
—  the  sting  that  sometimes  drives  the  criminal  to  pro- 
claim his  sin  that  others  may  know  the  worst  of  him. 
The  secret  burden  of  a  crime  may  prove  so  intolerable 
that  publicity  will  feel  almost  like  pardon. 

There  may  have  been,  too,  the  prompting  which  some- 
times leads  a  man  to  seek  any  human  presence  as  a 
relief  from  the  terror  of  his  own  thoughts.  He  could 
not  expect  that  the  priests  would  relax  their  hold  on 
Christ  for  any  confession  of  his,  but  he  may  have  faintly 
looked  for  some  word  which  could  help  him  against 
his  own  bitter  accusations.  But  here  the  gulf  of  sepa- 
ration opens  again.  The  chilling  question,  "  What  is 
that  to  us  ? "  and  the  look  which  must  have  accom- 
panied it,  told  him  that,  as  he  had  cut  himself  off  from 
the  good,  he  was  cast  off  by  the  wicked.  He  had  served 
their  purpose,  and  is  thrown  away  like  a  broken  tool. 

Men  have  been  able  to  dig  for  each  other  deep  dark 
dungeons,  far  from  man's  face  and  God's  pleasant  sun- 
light, but  there  is  no  fearful  pit  of  solitude  like  that 
which  a  soul  can  sink  for  itself.  It  may  be  more  rare 
that  it  takes  the  form  of  a  crime,  like  that  of  Judas, 
which  sets  him  separate,  like  a  wonder  and  a  terror ; 
but  all  sin  has  this  quality  in  its  nature.  It  divides 
from  those  whose  friendship  can  be  trusted,  and  it  can 
form  no  other  tie  which  will  endure. 

22 


338  JUDAS    AND    THE   PRIESTS. 

The  next  thing  to  be  remarked  of  the  sin  of  Judas 
is,  that  it  brought  him  to  a  state  tvhere  he  was  deserted 
by  himself.  We  may  call  a  man  self-deserted,  when  he 
cannot  be  alone  with  his  own  thoughts.  We  have  each 
of  us  a  personality  which  we  feel  to  be  our  real  self, 
and  which  lives  on  amid  all  change  and  circumstance. 
But,  with  this,  there  is  a  circle  of  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings different  from  this  self,  and  yet  inseparably  con- 
nected with  it.  They  are  the  inner  home  which  every 
soul  is  engaged  in  fashioning  for  itself,  and  which  is 
destined  to  be  its  eternal  dwelling-place.  As  long  as 
we  can  keep  company  with  its  memories  and  hopes,  we 
are  never  in  utter  solitude.  When  we  have  to  turn 
away  from  it,  we  are  alone  indeed. 

Let  us  say  here,  that  there  are  some  who  do  turn 
away  from  it  without  being  in  the  worst  case.  A 
calamity  may  have  crazed  the  brain,  or  a  morbid  spec- 
tre looked  in  on  the  heart  and  jarred  the  sweet  strings 
of  their  nature,  and  alienated  them  from  life  and  self, 
as  Job  seems  to  have  been.  We  all  know  where  the 
wrong  lies,  not  in  the  book  of  the  soul,  but  in  the 
man's  disordered  reading  of  it ;  and  how  sure  we  may 
be  that,  if  not  here,  yet  hereafter,  he  will  be  made  to 
see  light  in  God's  light.  The  jarred  strings  which  have 
sent  forth  this  temporary  discord  will  give  out  sweeter 
music  at  last  for  the  strain  put  upon  them. 

The  terrible  self-desertion  is  when  conscience  is 
roused,  and  makes  the  thoughts  intolerable  because  of 
the  presence  of  a  sin  which  cannot  be  got  rid  of.  Back- 
ward, forward,  upward,  this  meets  the  man  wherever 
he  turns  his  look,  and  his  feeling  is  that  which  the 
poet  has  given  to  the  apostate  angel,  "  Me  miserable, 
which  way  shall  1  fly !  " 


END    OF    EVIL    ASSOCIATION.  339 

It  may  be  seldom  in  this  world  that  one  is  brought 
to  such  blackness  of  darkness,  but  it  is  certain  that 
every  sin  he  consciously  commits  is  making  him  less 
able  to  keep  company  with  himself.  He  may  not  take 
note  of  it  at  the  time,  but  his  conscience  is  doing  the 
work  of  the  hand  on  Belsliazzar's  wall.  It  is  writing 
down  terrible  words,  and  such  a  force  can  be  put  into 
them,  that  when  they  are  set  in  order  before  his  eyes, 
his  knees  shall  smite  together,  and  he  will  seek  to 
escape  anywhere  from  his  own  thoughts.     . 

Further,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Judas  was  deserted 
by  the  tempter  and  the  bribe, —  deserted,  at  least,  so  far 
as  the  false  strength  is  concerned  which  had  hitherto 
sustained  him.  It  is  the  distinct  teaching  of  the  gospels 
that,  besides  the  chief  priests,  there  was  another  influ- 
ence at  work  outside  Judas  —  the  enemy  who  seduced 
man  to  sin  at  first,  and  who  still  is  engaged  in  the 
work  of  temptation. 

The  kingdom  of  evil,  as  well  as  that  of  good,  has  a 
personal  head.  That  he  should  have  the  power  of 
tempting  is  no  more  strange  than  that  human  spirits 
should  possess  it.  He  can  no  more  compel  than  they, 
and  he  gains  in  influence  only  as  we  yield  him  place. 
The  experience  of  many  temptations  points  to  such  a 
power  in  .operation.  There  is  a  halo  cast  round  worldly 
objects  and  a  glow  of  passionate  attractiveness  breathed 
into  them,  which  are  not  in  themselves,  and  which  can 
scarcely  come  from  the  mind  that  looks  on  them. 
Crimes  are  committed  and  souls  bartered  for  such  mis- 
erable bribes  that  to  the  rational  spectator  it  is  utterly 
unnatural,  and  the  man  himself  wonders  at  it  when 
the  delirium  is  past.     Our  great  dramatic  poet   has 


340  JUDAS   AND    THE   PRIESTS. 

seized  this  feature  of  sin,  —  this  strange  residuum  in 
temptation,  which  indicates  an  extra-human  agency, 
—  and  has  set  it  down  to  those  unseen  powers  of  evil 
which  "  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense."  It  does  not 
diminish  any  man's  responsibility,  but  it  should  in- 
crease his  vigilance.  Not  only  are  these  powers  unable 
to  constrain  the  will,  they  have  no  influence  of  seduc- 
tion, no  delusive  atmosphere  at  command,  where  the 
heart  has  not  prepared  itself  for  it,  by  cherishing 
the  sin  long  and  deeply. 

Judas  had  made  ready  his  own  nature  for  the 
tempter.  He,  and  none  but  he,  could  have  rendered 
himself  capable  of  yielding.  And  now  that  he  has 
yielded,  the  power  at  work  becomes  apparent  in  the 
disenchantment  which  follows.  The  seducer,  in  this 
form  at  least,  leaves  him,  and  withdraws  the  allure- 
ment of  his  promise.  There  is  something  wonderful, 
if  it  were  not  so  common,  in  the  sight  of  this  fortitude 
of  the  transgressor  failing  in  the  very  moment  of  suc- 
cess, in  the  sudden  change  in  value  of  what  he  had 
coveted  an  hour  before,  till  the  silver,  which  was  so 
dear,  eats  his  flesh  as  it  were  fire,  and  he  casts  it  from 
him  like  a  viper  that  has  stung  his  hand.  It  is  the  act 
of  a  treacherous  ally,  who  has  lured  his  sinful  victim 
to  his  selected  place,  and  then  deserts  him  in  the  in- 
stant of  his  ruin. 

Whether  men  will  admit  the  agency  of  an  unseen 
tempter  or  not,  they  must  grant  that  a  sinful  object  has 
a  very  different  look  before  and  after  possession,  —  that 
in  the  hour  of  promised  enjoyment  it  shrinks  and  shriv- 
els, or  becomes  hideous  and  loathsome.  Whatever  we 
deduct  from  the  influence  of  Satan  we  must  attribute 


END    OF   EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  341 

in  a  corresponding  measure  to  that  of  sin,  for  the  fact 
remains  that  the  powers  of  evil,  soon  or  late,  abandon 
the  man  who  has  sold  himself  to  them.  They  promise 
what  they  never  pay,  and  buoy  up  with  a  false  courage, 
which  fails  at  the  moment  it  is  wanted.  After  sin  has 
made  a  man  so  that  he  cannot  look  steadily  into  his 
own  soul,  it  ends  by  destroying  his  enjoyment  in  that 
fictitious  world  of  pleasure  for  which  it  has  induced 
him  to  sell  all  that  is  Divine  and  real.  It  cheats  him 
of  the  substance  for  a  shadow,  and  of  that  shadow  it 
robs  him,  or  changes  it  into  a  frightful  phantom,  from 
which  he  would  escape  if'he  could  —  as  Judas  from  the 
hire  of  his  treachery. 

We  have  seen  how  sin  separates  a  man  from  the 
friendship  of  the  good,  from  the  sympathy  even  of  the 
wicked,  from  fellowship  with  his  own  thoughts,  from 
pleasure  in  the  thing  he  coveted ;  and  now  we  come  to 
the  last  feature,  the  sejiaration  it  effects  between  the  soul 
and  G-od.  The  first  step  in  sin  is  such  a  separation 
begun  ;  but  there  seems  to  be  a  stage  which  a  man  may 
reach  in  this  world  when  nothing  will  induce  him  to 
turn  his  face  to  Him  whom  he  has  abandoned.  If  a 
man  under  the  overwhelming  conviction  of  guilt  can 
still  look  to  God,  it  makes  his  sin  seem  more  sinful, 
but  it  makes  the  thought  of  it  more  supportable,  for 
it  gives  him  the  view  of  mercy  and  reparation.  There 
are  no  straits  in  guilt  where  there  is  not  help  in  God, 
if  the  man  will  only  hope.  But  if  sin  has  gained 
such  power  over  him,  that,  though  he  feels  its  bitter 
fruit,  it  is  less  painful  to  him  than  the  presence  and 
the  thought  of  God,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  That  which 
is  reviving  light  to  others  is  to  such  a  man  consuming 


342  JUDAS    AND   THE   PRIESTS. 

fire,  and  flight  from  God's  face  is  sought  by  him  as  a 
relief  and  escape. 

While  the  man  maintains  this  position,  the  nature 
within  him  cannot  be  changed,  and  in  that  nature  lies 
his  misery.  The  terrible  hardness  which  makes  remorse 
different  from  repentance  arises  from  the  view  of  sin 
without  the  true  view  of  God.  It  is  a  fearful  truth 
that  there  may  be  the  most  bitter  and  tormenting  sense 
of  guilt  without  any  real  godly  repentance  for  it.  The 
heart  of  stone  may  be  crushed  and  remain  stone  in  its 
every  fragment ;  it  can  only  be  melted  when  the  love 
of  God  is  suffered  to  shine  on  it.  And  if  the  man  has 
so  depraved  his  nature  that  God  with  all  his  love  has 
become  a  distaste  and  repulsion  to  him,  and  evil  with 
all  its  misery  less  intolerable,  what  are  we  to  think  of 
it  ?  It  might  seem  utterly  impossible  that  any  being 
in  God's  universe  could  ever  reach  such  a  state  if  we 
had  not  instances  of  it,  nay,  if  we  had  not  the  proof  of 
it  in  our  own  nature.  Whenever  any  one  of  us,  in  the 
presence  of  a  sinful  object,  or  after  a  sin  has  been  com- 
mitted, strives  to  put  away  the  thought  of  God,  —  when 
we  do  not  like  to  retain  Him  in  our  knowledge,  —  we 
are  touching  the  edge  of  this  terrible  darkness,  and 
we  may  have  some  idea  how  men  may  come  at  last  to 
love  that  darkness  rather  than  the  light. 

These  are  subjects  very  painful,  but  very  needful, 
and  they  are  forced  upon  our  consideration  in  such  a 
case  as  this.  It  is  of  all  things  most  certain  that  a 
soul  living  consciously  in  sin  is  living  without  God, 
and  to  be  without  God  is  to  be  without  hope.  This, 
too,  is  certain,  that  the  longer  a  man  thus  lives  the 
more  does  absence  from  God  deepen  the  sense  of  dis* 


END    OP   EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  343 

like,  and  the  more  difficult  and  improbable  will  be  his 
return.  The  thought  of  this  may  not  trouble  some 
very  much  at  present,  because  they  feel  as  if  they  can 
live  without  God  in  a  very  pleasurable  way,  and  they  do 
not  see  why  they  should  ever  have  a  greater  necessity 
for  Him.  They  can  put  friendships  and  occupations 
in  his  room,  and  contrive  to  forget  Him.  But  when 
these  pass,  as  pass  they  must,  and  perish  like  flowers 
on  the  edge  of  a  gulf,  the  awful  depth  of  the  chasm 
will  be  seen.  When  fold  after  fold  which  now  closes 
the  eye  of  the  soul  is  torn  off,  and  it  is  compelled  to 
look  on  eternal  realities,  how  will  it  stand  the  gaze  ? 
This  loss  of  God  must  then  be  felt  to  be  that  loss  of 
the  soul  of  which  the  Saviour  speaks,  when  he  asks, 
What  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  it  ?  And  when 
He  who  made  the  soul,  and  loved  it  so  much,  puts  the 
issue  before  ns  so  solemnly,  should  it  not  bring  us 
seriously  to  question  ourselves,  and  to  resolve  to  give- 
place  to  nothing  that  will  cloud  our  clear  view  of  God, 
and  never  to  betray  Christ  and  the  homage  we  owe 
Him  for  the  whole  world  ? 

II.  We  come  now  to  the  second  part  of  this  subject 

■ — THE    CHIEF    PRIESTS    AND    THEIR    CONDUCT. 

In  the  case  of  Judas  we  see  sin  when  it  has  reached 
its  close  ;  here  we  can  perceive  some  of  its  features 
when  still  in  the  strength  of  its  course. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  us  on  their  part  is  their 
disregard  for  their  instrument  ivhen  their  pwyose  is 
gained.  Judas  had  served  their  end  in  putting  Christ 
into  their  power  quietly  and  securely,  so  as  to  avoid 
the  hazard  of  public  insurrection.     And  now  for  the 


344  JUDAS   AND    THE   PRIESTS. 

traitor  himself  they  nave  no  further  concern.  They 
could  not  but  see  his  agony  in  his  face  and  bearing, 
an  agony  which  was  haunting  him  without  respite,  and 
fast  making  life  intolerable.  But  for  all  this  they 
have  no  regard.  They  could  relieve  his  anguish  only 
by  releasing  Christ,  and  this  would  be  to  surrender 
the  object  for  which  they  had  made  use  of  Judas.  If 
they  had  let  Christ  go  free  from  any  such  motive,  they 
would  have  been  different  men  from  what  they  were. 
Even  Judas  himself  could  not  complain.  He  had 
tried  to  make  his  use  of  them  as  they  of  him,  and 
there  was  no  pretence  of  principle  or  affection  on 
either  side.  They  had  kept  their  share  of  the  con- 
tract, and  he  must  abide  by  his.  This  is  the  remorse- 
less logic  which  belongs  to  these  cases,  and  among 
such  men  it  is  all-powerful.  It  raises  a  feeling  of 
commiseration  for  the  poor  outcast  wretch  to  see  him 
so  repulsed.  Had  he  gone  so  to  Christ  he  would  have 
been  otherwise  received. 

That  this  is  the  natural  end  of  all  these  associations 
there  can  be  little  doubt  —  of  all  alliances  that  are 
made  for  mutual  aid  in  the  pursuit  of  revenge  or  un- 
hallowed ambition,  of  unjust  gain  or  sinful  pleasure. 
Let  us  admit  that  there  will  appear  sometimes  in  the 
worst  of  men  a  remnant  of  human  feeling  which  casts 
back  a  fragment  of  pity  to  a  fallen  accomplice,  yet  it 
is  given  only  when  it  does  not  interfere  with  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  sought  his  help.  They  love  that 
purpose  better  than  him,  and  when  it  is  selfish,  and 
wickedly  selfish,  we  can  easily  calculate  how  far  their 
sympathy  will  go,  how  little  sacrifice  it  will  make,  and 
how  soon  it  will  weary  of  that  little.     We  know  well 


END    OP    EVIL    ASSOCIATION.  845 

enough,  too,  how  seldom  any  glimmerings  of  commis- 
eration rise  in  such  alliances,  and  how  the  contract 
is  that  of  the  wolves  of  the  forest,  which  devour  their 
fallen  companions  and  continue  the  chase. 

"  And  the  chief  priests  took  the  silver  pieces."  It  was 
like  stripping  a  dead  comrade.  They  had  not  the  nat- 
ural feeling  to  let  the  wretched  hire  lie,  but  they  must 
lift  it  for  a  use  of  their  own.  Let  this  be  learned,  that 
if  any  friendship  is  to  be  formed  that  will  stand  us  in 
stead  in  time  of  trial,  it  need  not  be  sought  among  bad 
men  consorting  for  unprincipled  ends.  Under  the 
courtesies  which  have  been  established  by  convention- 
alism, or  among  the  excitements  of  social  pleasure,  this 
may  be  forgotten,  but  the  first  stress  will  lay  bare  the 
hollowness  of  such  friendships,  and  show  what  bitter 
enemies  confront  one  another  when  wicked  men  are 
separated  by  selfish  purposes. 

The  next  thing  in  the  conduct  of  the  chief  priests  is 
their  attempt  to  shake  off  the  responsibility  of  the  common 
act.  Judas  confesses  in  his  agony  the  entire  innocence 
of  his  Master.  Christ  was  guiltless  of  any  such  design 
as  they  charged  him  with,  —  of  self-seeking  or  earthly 
ambition,  —  and  they  knew  it  as  well  as  Judas.  It 
was  because  He  refused  to  yield  to  this  that  He  was 
both  betrayed  and  condemned.  It  was  because  Judas 
had  given  up  any  hope  of  worldly  gain,  through  his  king- 
dom, that  he  had  sold  Him  to  them.  And  now,  not  only 
Christ's  guiltlessness  of  the  charge,  but  his  spotless 
and  loving  character, — the  good  lie  had  received  at 
his  hands,  and  never  evil, —  the  gentle  considerateness, 
—  the  unwearied  patience,  —  the  pitying  tenderness  he 
had   shown   him  and  his    fellow-disciples,  —  rose    up 


346  JUDAS   AND   THE   PRIESTS. 

before  the  soul  of  his  betrayer,  and  smote  him  with 
unutterable  remorse.  No  one  word,  no  one  act,  could 
he  call  up  that  would  help  his  own  thoughts  to  justify 
his  treachery.  And  when  the  consciousness  of  his 
guilt  is  crushing  him,  his  associates  refuse  all  share 
in  it.  "  What  is  that  to  us  ?  "  If  Christ  is  innocent 
it  is  not  their  concern.  The  traitor  who  knew  Him  so 
well  should  have  thought  of  this  when  he  surrendered 
Him.  And  in  this,  they  touch  the  very  point  which 
stung  Judas  to  the  quick,  the  one  thing  which  made 
his  guilt  blacker  than  theirs.  He  knew  Christ  better, 
and  sinned  more  against  the  purity  and  love  of  his 
nature.  There  is  no  more  deplorable  fall  than  in  the 
case  of  those  who  have  been  most  in  Christ's  company, 
and  no  sorer  blow  than  when  a  hard  worldling  strikes 
an  apostate  Christian  professor. 

This  attempt  to  shake  off  responsibility  is  a  very 
common  feature  in  all  evil  associations.  There  comes 
an  ultimate  and  dreadful  condition  of  mind,  when,  as 
in  the  case  of  Judas,  all  refuges  of  lies  are  swept  away, 
when  nothing  but  guilt,  guilt  without  contrition,  stares 
the  man  in  the  face.  But  there  is  a  state  of  things  on 
the  way  to  this,  through  which  Judas,  too,  may  have 
passed,  —  the  effort  to  shake  off  all  share  in  the  guilt, 
and  to  cast  it  on  others.  The  first  compact  of  evil  in 
the  world  manifests  it  —  "the  woman  that  Thou  gav- 
est  to  be  with  me  " — "  the  serpent  beguiled  me,  and  I 
did  eat."  Sometimes  it  is  an  attempt  to  put  down  an 
upbraiding  conscience,  sometimes  to  outface  an  accus- 
ing accomplice.  But  this  is  certain,  that  one  of  the 
punishments  in  concerted  sin  is  mutual  recrimination, 
and  that  the  weakest  are  denied,  not  only  pity,  but 
ordinary  justice. 


END    OF    EVIL    ASSOCIATION.  347 

The  last  feature  we  mention  in  their  conduct  is  that 
they  end  their  sinful  compact  with  a  taunt.  "  What  is 
that  to  us  ?  see  thou  to  that."  It  is  a  sneer  at  his 
being  too  late  in  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  Christ's 
innocence.  This  view  of  the  matter  should  have  sug- 
gested itself  sooner.  It  is  undisguised  contempt  for 
his  helplessness.  They  despised  him  all  along,  and  now 
they  can  show  it.  And  there  is  probably  an  intended 
derision  of  his  remorse.  There  are  some  men  who, 
whether  from  a  harder  physical  nature,  or  from  the 
application  of  mental  opiates,  can  drug  their  conscience 
till  the  stings  of  it  in  others  are  regarded  as  signs  of 
feebleness.  They  look  on  the  man  who  suffers  from 
them  as  a  deserter  and  a  coward.  It  is  difficult  to  say 
whether  the  meanness  of  sin  is  most  revealed  in  Judas 
or  in  them  —  in  his  degradation,  or  their  spurning  of 
him.  A  generous  man  can  use  sarcasm  —  it  is  the  scorn 
felt  by  a  true  nature  for  what  is  base,  but  a  sneer  has 
always  a  vein  of  the  ignoble  in  it,  and  a  sneer  at  a  fallen 
accomplice  belongs  to  natures  of  the  lowest  grade. 
Some  find  it  hard  to  face  the  serpent's  hiss  of  hatred, 
but  here  is  something  worse  to  endure  — its  hiss  of 
scorn.  Better  by  infinite  meet  the  ridicule  of  sinners 
for  not  joining  them  while  we  have  a  good  conscience, 
than  end  by  being  subjected  to  their  taunts  when  we 
feel  they  are  deserved. 

Yet  before  leaving  these  men,  let  us  be  sure  of  this, 
that  though  they  might  disown  responsibility  they  could 
not  destroy  it.  A  man  may  stop  his  chronometer  in 
the  night,  but  he  cannot  arrest  the  sunrise.  The  time 
shall  come  when  they  too  must  see  to  it,  and  the  innocent 
blood  find  another  voice  than  in  the  remorse  of  Judas. 


348  JUDAS   AND    THE   PRIEbl'S. 

The  two  sides  of  sinful  companionship  we  have  been 
contemplating  show  us  two  stages  in  sin,  the  one  its 
full  career,  the  other  its  close.  As  long  as  men  are  in 
the  pursuit  of  an  object,  they  may  be  able,  with  the  aid 
of  passion,  to  stifle  conscience,  but  when  the  object  is 
reached,  and  the  value  deliberately  counted,  —  the 
thirty  pieces  of  silver  for  which  a  Saviour  has  been 
sold,  —  conscience  can  begin  to  strike  the  balance. 
The  heat  and  halo  of  the  chase  are  over,  and  the  net 
result  can  be  reckoned,  at  least  on  one  side  ;  the  miser- 
able gain,  if  not  the  infinite  loss.  So  it  is  with  the 
betrayer,  and  so  it  must  be,  by  and  by,  with  those  who 
hired  him.  They  may  meanwhile  outbrave  Judas,  but 
they  have  to  meet  God.  And,  let  us  think  of  it,  —  the 
poisoned  arrow  a  man  uses  may  wound  himself.  The 
sneer  is  always  on  the  way  to  the  remorse.  They  have 
both  the  same  hard  bitterness  in  them  —  the  same 
want  of  God's  love.  Nay  more,  as  their  taunts  now 
pierce  him  he  may  turn  round  and  reach  them.  Mutual 
reproach  is  one  of  the  miseries  of  confederate  sin  when 
it  closes.  On  one  side  the  burden  of  sin  has  a  dreadful 
solitude  about  it.  "  Every  man  must  bear  his  own 
burden  "  —  "  See  thou  to  that."  And  yet,  on  the  other 
side,  there  is  a  fearful  companionship,  for  one  sinner 
takes  up  this  taunt  against  another.  May  not  this  be 
the  meaning  of  that  solemn  sentence  —  "  Gather  ye  the 
tares,  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to  burn  them  "  ? 

In  what  we  have  said,  we  have  been  looking  chiefly 
at  the  end  of  sin  and  sinful  association  in  this  world. 
If  we  had  no  other  view  of  it,  there  is  enough  to  fill  us 
with  fear  and  awe,  —  that  sin  cherished  in  the  soul 
should  so  ruin  human  nature  and  leave  it  a  wreck  of 


END    OF    EVIL   ASSOCIATION.  349 

guilt  and  agony.  While  the  other  disciples  stumbled 
to  rise,  because  truth  and  love  to  the  Son  of  God  were 
in  their  hearts,  and  while  they  grew  up  to  that  self-sac- 
rifice and  nobility  of  soul  which  make  their  names 
mingle  in  our  thoughts  with  that  Name  which  is  above 
every  name,  the  traitor's  has  gone  out  and  down  among 
men,  as  a  thing  of  loathing  and  horror,  and  is  the  per- 
petual warning  of  the  awful  catastrophe  to  which  sin, 
cherished  in  the  soul,  at  last  may  lead.  There  is  surely 
no  prayer  which  better  befits  us  in  such  a  review 
than  the  Psalmist's  :  "  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ? 
cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  faults.  Keep  back  thy 
servant  also  from  presumptuous  sins ;  let  them  not 
have  dominion  over  me :  then  shall  I  be  upright,  and 
I  shall  be  innocent  from  the  great  transgression." 

It  is  scarcely  possible,  when  we  have  such  a  case 
before  us,  to  avoid  thinking  also  of  the  future  world. 
This  matter  is  no  subject  for  passion  or  threat,  but  for 
serious  thought  each  one  with  himself.  The  New  Tes- 
tament has  an  expression  concerning  Judas  (Acts  i. 
25),  which  is  as  practical  as  profoundly  solemn,  —  "  He 
went  to  his  own  place."  In  the  eternal  world  every 
man  has  his  place,  and  it  is  his  own.  No  other  can 
make  it,  and  no  other  can  occupy  it,  for  him.  Whatever 
may  be  in  it  outwardly,  its  essence  lies  in  his  own  soul 
and  in  the  condition  to  which  he  has  brought  it.  Here, 
in  the  last  issue  consists  his  misery  or  joy,  for  only 
through  his  soul  can  his  share  be  measured  in  the  uni- 
verse of  God  and  in  God  himself. 

And  God  has  made  the  man's  own  soul  witness  and 
judge  over  itself.  This  difference  only  shall  exist 
between  the  present  and  the  future,  that  then,  —  con- 


350  JUDAS    AND   THE   PRIESTS. 

fronted  with  the  eternal  laws  of  truth  and  justice,  — 
the  witness  shall  have  no  power  of  false  testimony,  and 
the  judge  be  unable  to  use  favor  or  sophistry.  We 
may  say,  that,  by  thus  lodging  the  decision  in  every 
man's  conscience,  God  has  put  it  out  of  his  own  power 
to  act  with  partiality,  and  put  it  out  of  our  power  to 
charge  Him  with  it.  If  the  conscience  could  truly 
charge  the  Supreme  Lawgiver  with  injustice,  it  may  he 
affirmed  with  all  reverence,  that  this  would  sustain  it 
against  the  wrong.  Men  shall  take  their  own  place  in 
the  spiritual  universe  as  bodies  take  their  place  in  the 
natural,  — by  the  power  of  gravitation  which  is  in  them 
—  nearer  God  or  further  from  Him,  as  they  have 
impressed  the  character  upon  themselves,  and  in  near- 
ness will  lie  life  and  peace,  —  in  distance,  death  and 
misery. 

It  may  be  a  congratulation  with  some  that  such  cases 
as  that  of  Judas  are  exceptional,  and  that,  without 
having  decidedly  chosen  for  God,  they  have  nothing  of 
the  blackness  of  the  betrayer  nor  the  malignity  of  his 
accomplices.  Let  this  be  meanwhile  granted,  and  let 
it  be  admitted  that  in  the  future  world  there  must  be 
infinite  gradations  on  either  side.  To  deny  this,  and 
to  make  only  two  unrelieved  colors,  would  be  untruth- 
ful to  God's  justice  and  to  the  plainest  lessons  of  the 
Bible.  But  let  any  one  ask  himself  if  he  could  think  it 
well  to  remain  on  the  same  side  with  Judas,  only  not 
so  deep  in  degradation  ?  If  it  were  possible,  could  he 
be  contented  with  some  border-land  between  God  and 
sin  ?  The  history  of  the  Cross  of  Christ,  which  is  so 
wonderful  a  touchstone  of  human  nature,  shows  us,  in 
the  person  of  Pilate,  one  who  attempted  it.    If  any  man 


END    OP    EVIL    ASSOCIATION.  351 

could  have  escaped  taking  a  part  between  Christ  and 
his  enemies,  it  might  have  been  Pontius  Pilate.  He 
was  a  heathen,  who  might  excuse  himself  from  Jewish 
questions,  and  he  was  reared  among  the  conflicting 
scepticisms  of  his  day  in  such  a  way,  that  his  question 
"  What  is  truth  ?  "  appeared  hopeless  of  an  answer. 
But  with  all  his  struggles  he  was  forced  to  take  a  side. 
He  might  wash  his  hands  before  the  multitude  and  say 
"  See  ye  to  it,"  but  the  stain  of  Christ's  blood  is  on 
them  yet,  and  he  stands  a  miserable  example  of  that 
weak  and  fancied  neutrality  which  can  never  be  sus- 
tained. If  God  had  no  claims,  and  sin  were  not  already 
master  of  our  nature,  neutrality  might  be  spoken  of, 
but  he  who  chooses  it  as  things  are,  elects  to  remain  a 
rebel.  If  the  Son  of  God  had  not  entered  the  world 
with  his  summons  to  return  to  allegiance,  the  case 
might  have  been,  at  least,  more  doubtful,  but  now  we 
must  either  be  among  those  who  gather  to  the  side  of 
Divine  Truth  when  it  rises  on  the  cross  into  the  form 
of  Love,  or  take  our  part  with  the  chief  priests  and 
Judases  who  buy  and  sell  Him,  and  the  Pilates,  who 
think  they  can  stand  by  and  harmlessly  hold  the 
scales. 

What  a  deep  ground  of  thankfulness  should  it  be  to 
all  of  us,  that  the  standard  which  calls  us  to  take  a 
side,  holds  out  a  free  and  full  pardon  to  the  worst  of 
rebels,  —  to  the  betrayers  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  to  his 
murderers,  if  they  will  but  turn  to  Him  !  The  death 
of  Christ,  which  is  such  a  revelation  of  human  charac- 
ter, is  a  revelation  still  more  of  God's  mercy.  The 
death  rises  into  a  sacrifice,  the  crime  discloses  an 
atonement,  and  if  those  who  joined   in  the   treason 


352 


JUDAS   AND    THE   PRIESTS. 


would  have  but  looked  on  Him  whom  they  pierced,  all 
would  have  been  forgiven,  and  the  abundance  of  sin 
swallowed  up  in  the  abundance  of  grace. 

From  whatever  is  doubtful  and  mysterious,  let  us 
turn  to  this  —  the  light  which  shines  in  darkness.  Let 
us  be  afraid  not  so  much  of  the  punishment  of  sin  as 
of  sin  itself,  feeling  that  it  bears  its  sting  in  its  own 
bosom,  and  that,  if  there  be  in  any  child  of  man  the 
desire  to  be  freed  from  it,  he  is  welcomed  by  the  full 
heart  of  God  drawing  near  to  us  in  that  Redeemer  who 
is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  those  that  come 
unto  God  through  Him. 


XX. 


^Itrtefg   irftontt  m  U/aclimn  |;rutL 


liI  have  yet  many  things  to  say  u?ito  you,  btct  ye  cawiot  bear 
than  now." — John  xvi.  12. 


UR  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  been  engaged  for 


years  in  instructing  his  disciples.  There  never 
£^%^  was  so  constant  and  skilful  a  teacher,  using 
every  opportunity  and  every  incident.  The  record  of 
his  lessons  preserved  to  us  in  the  four  Gospels  is  a 
very  small  part  of  what  He  spoke,  and  yet  what  a  store 
of  truth,  new  to  the  world,  and  divine  and  everlasting 
in  its  reach,  is  contained  in  it !  What  a  light  is  cast 
upon  human  duty,  in  its  breadth  and  depth,  in  the 
sermon  on  the  mount,  how  varied  the  relations  of  man's 
life  to  his  fellow-man  and  to  God  as  presented  in  his 
parables,  and  what  revelations  of  the  love  of  the  Father, 
and  all  he  intends  here  and  hereafter  by  the  gift  of  his 
Son,  in  this  same  discourse  ! 

But  after  all  these  revelations,  and  when  now  at  the 
close  of  his  ministry,  much  remains  untold.  One  feels 
as  if  there  were  an  expression  of  regret  from  the  heart 
of  the  Great  Teacher  that  He  cannot  unbosom  Himself 
further.     He  has  so  many  things  to  communicate,  but 

23 


354       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

his  lips  are  sealed.  It  is  not  so  much  time  that  is 
wanting  to  Him,  though  that  too  presses,  as  fitness  on 
the  part  of  his  scholars.  The  Teacher  is  all-wise,  but 
the  learners  are  weak  and  full  of  prejudice.  The 
Teacher  is  so  wise  that  He  will  not  give  them  more 
than  they  can  well  receive. 

This  is  a  view  of  the  wisdom  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  which  we  do  not  so  frequently  consider.  We 
dwell  much  upon  what  He  openly  reveals,  but  we  do  not 
reflect  as  we  ought  to  do  on  all  that  was  in  his  thought, 
and  which  He  kept  back  out  of  consideration  for  us,  or 
rather,  we  should  say,  left  room  for,  and  indicated  in 
such  a  way  as  to  convince  us  He  intended  us  to  know 
it  one  day.  It  is  this  view  of  Christ's  character  which 
is  here  presented  to  us, —  Christ's  reticence  in  teaching 
truth;  and  we  shall  first  give  some  illustrations  of  it, 
and  next  some  conclusions  in  regard  to  Christ  and 
human  nature  to  which  it  may  help  us. 

I.  Some  illustrations  of  this  feature  of  Christ's 
teaching. 

1.  We  shall  take  some  of  the  truths  to  ivhich  we 
may  suppose  our  Lord  made  immediate  reference.  One 
of  these  was  the  long  separation  which  was  about  to 
take  place  between  Him  and  his  disciples.  They  were 
on  the  verge  of  parting  from  Him,  never  more  to  meet 
till  their  death  should  bring  them  to  his  presence  in 
another  world.  This  would  have  been  a  terrible, 
an  almost  intolerable  prospect,  to  them,  with  the  sense 
they  then  had  of  entire  dependence  on  his  outward 
presence.  They  could  not  conceive  of  such  a  farewell, 
and  when  He  hinted  at  separation  they  thought  of  it 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.       355 

as  spoken  of  in  figure,  or  as  to  last  for  a  brief  time. 
There  was  but  one  thing  that  could  enable  them  to 
bear  the  prospect  of  his  long  absence,  —  the  descent  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Comforter,  and  the  felt  presence 
of  Christ  with  them  in  their  hearts.  Till  then  it  is 
not  made  clear  to  them. 

Another  thing  that  He  did  not  reveal  to  them 
plainly  was  the  fall  of  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  accom- 
panied with  the  destruction  of  the  Jewish  State,  and 
scattering  of  the  nation  over  the  world  for  so  many 
centuries.  This  was  the  breaking  up  of  all  that  they 
clung  to  as  patriots  and  Jewish  believers.  The  whole 
foundation  of  their  faith  would  be  convulsed  by  the 
thought  of  it.  It  was  only  the  unfolding  of  Christian- 
ity in  its  spiritual  power,  the  fulfilment  of  types  and 
sacrifices  in  more  glorious  realities,  the  transference 
of  their  affections  to  a  higher  fatherland,  and  the  view 
of  the  heavenly  beauty  of  the  Jerusalem  above,  that 
could  enable  them  to  bear  the  loss  of  their  gorgeous 
ritual,  and  the  dispersion  of  their  race. 

Another  thing  of  the  future  not  fully  revealed  was, 
the  admission  of  men  of  all  nations  upon  equal  terms 
to  the  privileges  of  the  children  of  God.  It  was  only 
the  spirit  of  universal  charity,  —  the  perception  of 
Christ's  relationship  to  man  as  man,  the  burning  love 
to  human  souls  kindled  at  the  great  sacrifice  of  the 
cross,  that  could  lead  them  to  count  nothing  that  God 
has  cleansed  common  or  unclean,  and  to  cast  wide  the 
gospel-door  to  every  sinner  of  mankind. 

We  may  mention,  further,  the  gradual  way  in  which 
He  made  the  true  view  of  his  own  person  dawn  on 
them.     Had  they  known,  as  they  came  afterwards  to 


356       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

know,  the  full  truth  of  his  Divinity,  they  could  not 
have  borne  it.  To  walk,  side  by  side,  consciously  with 
the  Son  of  God,  in  all  their  human  sin  and  frailty, 
to  exchange  common  converse,  to  reason  and  remon- 
strate with  Him,  would  have  been  impossible.  It 
needed  that  they  should  look  back  on  it,  that  they 
should  have  the  tenderness  and  condescension  of  his 
character,  as  well  as  its  purity  and  grandeur,  brought 
out  by  the  Spirit  taking  of  the  things  that  were  Christ's 
and  showing  them  unto  them,  before  they  could  realize 
that  God  incarnate  had  entered  our  world  and  linked 
human  nature  in  the  closest  ties  to  Himself.  So 
great  a  truth  could  not  have  flashed  on  the  eye  at 
once  without  overpowering  it. 

All  these  things  of  which  we  have  spoken  are  rooted 
and  imbedded  in  the  Gospels ;  we  can  see  them  there 
in  our  Lord's  words  and  actions  from  the  beginning ; 
it  was  from  these  very  words  and  actions  that  his  dis- 
ciples came  to  learn  them  under  his  Spirit's  teaching, 
but  they  are  presented  in  such  a  way  as  to  meet  the 
state  of  their  minds  at  every  stage.  The  Gospels  and 
Epistles  are  not  opposite  views  of  Christ  and  Chris- 
tianity, —  they  are  not  even  different,  —  but  two  steps 
of  one  development,  the  course  of  which  can  be  seen 
passing  on  through  the  Gospels  themselves.  The 
principle  on  which  Christ  conducts  it  is,  that  the  full 
greatness  of  a  truth  is  not  unveiled  until  the  spiritual 
eye  has  been  strengthened,  and  a  hope  is  not  shattered 
until  its  true  compensation  has  been  provided.  It  is 
because  He  is  the  same  Educator  who  in  nature  lets 
the  blossoms  fall  only  when  the  fruit  forms,  and 
suffers  the  leaves  of  last  autumn  to  remain  on  trees 
whose  young  buds  need   such  shelter. 


Christ's 'reticence  in  teaching  truth.       357. 

2.  To  illustrate  further  this  feature  of  Christ's 
teaching,  we  may  consider  the  manner  of  his  revelation 
of  truth  to  the  world  in  general.  His  methods  are  of  a 
kind  peculiarly  fitted  to  reveal  truth  as  men  are  able  to 
bear  it.  The  parable  is  his  favorite  method  in  speech, 
and  the  miracle  in  action,  which,  as  He  performs  it,  is 
a  parable  put  into  a  living  shape.  In  both  of  these  a 
man  sees  little  or  much,  according  to  the  spirit  he 
brings,  and  what  he  sees  is  always  growing  into 
something  deeper  and  higher,  as  he  ponders  it.  Our 
Lord  desired  that  truth  should  not  be  thrust  upon  a 
man  from  without,  but  grow  up  within,  as  from  a  seed, 
night  and  day,  he  knows  not  how.  "  Seeing,  he  sees 
and  does  not  perceive ;  hearing,  he  hears  and  does  not 
understand ; "  but,  if  he  will  only  be  patient  and 
thoughtful,  a  new  world  grows  up  in  him  as  plants  and 
leaves  grow  in  spring.  It  is  this  manner  of  Christ's 
teaching,  by  parable  and  miracle,  which  makes  it 
suited  to  all  the  years  of  human  life,  as  it  is  suited  to 
every  age  of  the  world.  The  youngest  child  can  un- 
derstand something  of  it,  and  the  most  mature  Chris- 
tian feels  that  he  has  not  reached  the  end  of  it.  There 
is  no  other  method  of  instruction  we  can  think  of  that 
would  have  gained  this  result. 

Then  if  we  go  back  to  the  Old  Testament,  we  shall 
find  that  the  teaching  was  conducted  in  the  same  way. 
The  symbols  and  the  sacrifices  were  divine  parables, 
where  the  learners  had  to  take  part  with  their  hands, 
and  were  made  their  own  instructors.  Their  daily  acts 
were  impressing  upon  them  the  great  lessons  of  sin, 
atonement,  and  purity,  and,  step  by  step,  they  saw  a 
deeper   meaning   as    their    minds  were  ready  for  it. 


358       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  than  to  trace  how 
their  views  of  these  three  things,  guilt,  pardon,  and 
holiness,  kept  equal  pace,  growing  in  clearness  till 
Christ  came  and  satisfied  all  their  longings  when  they 
were  prepared  for  Him.  It  is  He  Himself  who  is  the 
great  Teacher,  —  the  Prophet  as  well  as  the  Priest 
of  the  one  unbroken  Church,  —  and  his  plan  is  the 
same  as  in  his  earthly  life,  revealing  truth  as  men  arc 
able  to  bear  it. 

When  we  come  down  to  the  ages  that  have  followed 
his  appearance  upon  earth,  there  is  the  same  gradual 
unfolding  of  the  principles  of  his  kingdom.  It  is  true 
that  they  are  all  to  be  found  in  the  divine  record.  The 
more  closely  we  study  it,  the  more  shall  we  be  sur- 
prised to  see  the  clearness  with  which  they  come  out. 
But  it  is  not  at  once  that  men  are  brought  to  discern 
them.  The  great  Reformers  of  the  Christian  Church 
were  led  on  to  their  final  views  by  slow  degrees.  The 
beginning  of  a  chain  was  put  into  their  hands,  and 
they  had  to  grope  it  out,  link  by  link,  under  the  com- 
pulsion of  Providence  and  the  constraint  of  conscience. 
They  were  made  to  see  each  new  truth  when  they  were 
prepared  for  it,  and  they  were  kept  in  harmony  with 
those  whom  they  had  to  lead.  It  seems  at  first  sight 
to  be  consummate  calculation  on  their  part  that  they 
never  hastened  too  far  before  their  followers ;  but  the 
wisdom  is  in  the  Spirit  and  Providence  of  Christ,  the 
teacher  of  the  Church.  If  Luther  had  seen  the  whole 
course  that  lay  before  him  when  he  opened  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  and  learnt  the  great  truth  of  justifica- 
tion by  faith  alone,  he  might  have  shrunk  back  in  fear. 
But  darkness  was  made  light  before  him  as  he   ad- 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.       359 

vanced,  till  a  new  dawn  rose  upon  the  Christian  world. 
And  all  those  who  have  been  honored  to  do  much  for 
the  cause  of  God  and  man  ever  since  have  been  led 
in  the  same  way.  When  churches  and  nations  are 
brought  out  of  Egypt,  they  do  not  see  the  long  years 
and  wanderings  that  are  before  them  ere  they  arrive  at 
their  inheritance  of  freedom  and  peace.  The  wells  of 
Marah  and  waters  of  Meribah  would  terrify  them  ;  and 
yet  these  have  all  their  lessons_of  faith  and  fortitude, 
which  qualify  God's  people  for  conquering  the  land  of 
their  birthright.  From  the  time  Christ  took  men  in 
hand  to  instruct  them,  He  has  been  acting  on  this 
principle,  "  I  have  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but 
ye  cannot  bear  them  now." 

3.  There  is  another  illustration  of  this  manner  of 
Christ's  teaching  —  in  the  individual  life.  Take,  for 
example,  the  way  in  which  the  view  of  human  life 
alters  as  men  advance  in  years.  Were  the  young  to 
discover  how  unsatisfactory  the  present  world  is  at  the 
core,  —  how  little  of  real  happiness,  as  they  expect  it, 
it  can  bring  —  what  blanks  and  what  bitters  there  are 
in  its  most  promised  sweetness,  —  they  could  not  bear 
it:  — 

"  If  nature  put  not  forth  her  power, 
About  the  opening  of  the  flower, 
Who  is  it  thai  could  live  an  hour?  " 

The  young  need  this  bright  view  of  the  world  to 
develop  their  energies,  —  to  nurse  their  affections  and 
imagination,  —  that  when  the  veterans  droop  they  may 
come  in,  like  a  fresh  reinforcement,  into  the  failing 
battle  of  life.  And  this  brightness  is  also  true,  though 
in  a  different  sense  from  their  vision  of  it.     It  comes 


360       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth... 

from  a  source  above  and  beyond  their  present  horizon. 
The  illusion  is  not  a  delusion.  "  The  glory  and  the 
dream  "  are  really  there  in  a  true  life  with  God,  though 
the  youthful  view  takes  in  no  more  than  the  broken 
shimmer  of  it  on  the  sea  over  which  they  sail.  For 
to  this  indeed  it  comes,  that  the  early  vision  of  life  is 
never  realized.  The  golden  islands  which  lay  in  the 
sunrise  pass  into  clouds,  and  the  gorgeous  sparkle  into 
a  stern  reality  of  struggle  and  storm.  But  ere  this 
arrives,  God  has  given  opportunity  for  building  up  a 
firmer  character  on  the  principles  of  duty,  and  on  the 
far-seeing  vision  of  another  world,  which  will  not  dis- 
appoint the  hope.  It  is  well  if  the  man  has  learned 
this.  The  world's  dream  can  take  its  own  flight,  and 
he  can  bear  it. 

There  is  a  similar  experience  in  the  Christian  life. 
Those  who  enter  on  it  have  the  confident  feeling  which 
would  gain  triumphs  without  thinking  of  trials  —  the 
spirit  of  Peter,  that  hopes  to  have  the  heavenly  vision 
without  the  hard  work,  — "  Master,  it  is  good  for  us 
to  be  here,"  —  or  the  fancied  strength  which  prompted 
his  boast,  "  Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee  whithersoever 
Thou  goest."  They  have  the  "  love  of  their  youth,  the 
zeal  of  their  espousals,"  and  they  cannot  conceive  that 
it  should  ever  be  otherwise.  But  then  comes  "  the 
check  and  change,"  dullness  of  feeling,  temptation, 
the  bitter  cross,  and  long  prospects  of  march  and  battle 
before  the  close.  Ere  this,  however,  they  have  learned 
to  add  to  their  faith  virtue  and  temperance  and 
patience,  —  to  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  and 
having  done  all  to  stand. 

The  afflictive  events  of  God's  providence  are  meas- 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.       361 

ured  in  the  same  way.  The  days  of  darkness  come, 
and  they  are  many,  but  our  eye  takes  in  only  the  first. 
One  wave  hides  another,  and  the  effort  to  encounter 
the  foremost  withdraws  our  thought  from  evils  which 
are  pressing  on.  If  we  could  see  them  all  at  once  we 
might  lie  down,  like  Elijah,  under  the  juniper-tree, 
and  say,  "  It  is  enough  —  let  me  not  live  !  "  But 
patience  attains  her  perfect  work  while  trials  unfold. 
As  the  eye  learns  to  see  in  darkness,  the  mind,  by  a 
merciful  arrangement,  grows  accustomed  to  look 
calmly  on  the  deepest  afflictions,  and  to  appreciate 
angel-like  consolations  in  them,  which  came  as  to  the 
prophet  in  the  desert,  that  in  the  strength  of  them  we 
may  travel  on  many  days  to  the  Mount  of  God. 

The  great  doctrines  of  the  gospel  are  presented  to 
the  mind  in  a  like  manner.  There  are  many  who  can- 
not bear  at  first  the  full  view  of  the  sovereignty  of 
God,  ■ —  of  One  who  does  all  things  according  to  the 
counsel  of  his  own  will,  —  and  they  draw  back  with 
something  like  shrinking  from  it,  and  dwell  only  on 
the  perfect  grace  and  absolute  freeness  of  the  way  of 
life.  But  grace  and  unconditioned  freeness  go  forward, 
and  with  joined  hands  embrace  at  last  the  lofty  doc- 
trine of  God's  sovereignty,  while  they  say,  "  Not  unto 
us,  but  unto  Thy  name  give  glory,  for  Thy  mercy  and 
for  Thy  truth's  sake  !  "  The  man  has  now  learned  hu- 
mility and  self-renunciation,  unreserved  trust  in  the 
good  and  perfect  will  of  God,  and  he  can  bear  it.  In 
Christ's  personal  teaching,  —  in  the  revelation  of  truth 
to  the  world,  —  and  in  the  guidance  of  our  individual 
life,  —  we  may  thus  trace  the  same  principle  of  unfold- 
ing his  lessons  as  men  are  fitted  to  bear  them. 


OOZ  CHRIST  S   RETICENCE   IN   TEACHING   TRUTH. 

II.  We   come   now   to   some   of   the    conclusions 

TAUGHT  US  REGARDING  CHRIST  AND  HUMAN  NATURE. 

In  regard  to  Christ,  we  have  reason  to  admire  his 
control  alike  over  Himself  and  his  message.  He  is  so 
absorbed  by  it  that  He  can  say,  "  The  zeal  of  Thine 
house  hath  devoured  me,"  and  yet  He  is  not  possessed 
by  it  like  a  frenzied  instrument.  There  is  calmness 
with  all  his  depth,  —  may  we  not  say,  calmness  because 
of  his  depth  ?  A  little  knowledge  makes  men  eager 
to  tell  all  they  have.  We  read  of  God  that  it  is  "  his 
glory  to  conceal  a  thing,"  and  spread  his  cloud  upon 
it.  He  can  "  hold  back  the  face  of  his  throne,"  and 
Christ  has  this  same  token  of  divinity  in  the  way  He 
discloses  truth.  He  is  neither  its  slave  nor  its  organ, 
but  its  Owner  and  Lord.  It  was  the  saying  of  a  phi- 
losopher, "  If  I  had  all  truth  in  my  hand,  I  would  let 
forth  only  a  ray  at  a  time,  lest  I  should  blind  the 
world." 

With  this  self-control  there  is  united  Christ's  tender- 
ness in  teaching.  The  rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness do  not  injure  the  most  delicate  tissue  of  the  eye 
on  which  they  fall.  It  needs  the  most  loving  heart  to 
have  such  pity  on  ignorance  as  to  feel  that  prema- 
ture knowledge  may  hurt  it,  and  to  refrain  from  act- 
ing the  tyrant  in  the  possession  of  superior  intellect,  — 
Ci  to  have  a  giant's  strength,  but  not  to  use  it  like  a 
giant." 

This  is  the  great  problem  which  revelation  solves 
when  it  brings  the  infinite  mind  of  God  into  contact 
with  our  finite  minds,  without  overwhelming  them. 
The  secret  of  it  is  its  wonderful  humanness,  coming 
to  us  where  we  are,  and  as  we  are,  while  it  never  lays 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.       363 

aside  its  own  truth  and  purity  ;  and  its  central  power 
is  found  in  Christ.  He  had  it  not  only  from  the  Divine 
nature  which  He  possessed,  but  because  He  was  truly 
and  intensely  human.  He  had  learned  sympathy  with 
finite  minds  from  passing  through  the  school  of  expe- 
rience. "  He  grew  in  wisdom."  "  Though  He  were 
a  Son,  yet  learned  He  obedience  by  the  things  which 
He  suffered."  There  is  a  meaning  in  such  words  be- 
yond what  we  commonly  give  them.  There  was  a 
dawning  of  knowledge  in  the  human  nature  of  Christ, 
gradual  as  in  us,  and  a  progress  of  it  through  pain  and 
struggle.  And  this  gives  not  only  skill,  but  tender 
ness,  to  all  the  dealings  of  the  Heavenly  Master  with 
his  slow  and  weak  scholars.  He  has  his  full  summer- 
tide  of  glorious  revelations  for  the  dwellers  in  a  higher 
world,  —  for  those  who  can  look  with  undazzled  eye 
on  the  brightness  of  his  noontide,  —  but  for  us  who 
are  emerging  from  the  winter  darkness  of  this  earth, 
He  has  the  gentler  radiance  of  his  spring-time,  and  the 
alternations  of  his  sunshine  and  his  shadow.  He  does 
not  let  out  his  full  flood  of  light  to  scorch  the  young 
plant  with  unmitigated  splendor  ;  but  interposes  his 
clouds  for  a  covering  and  refreshment.  There  are  in 
the  teaching  of  Christ,  both  in  the  Bible  and  in  Provi- 
dence, reticences  and  pauses  which  temper  the  truth 
to  feeble  minds,  as  clouds  chasten  light.  If  we  so  read 
them,  they  are  not  mere  blanks,  but  tokens,  of  a  true 
and  real  tenderness.  "  His  doctrine  will  yet  drop  from 
them  as  the  rain,  his  speech  distil  as  the  dew."  "  He 
will  not  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smok- 
ing flax,  till  He  bring  forth  judgment  unto  truth." 
We  may  see  in  this  method  of  teaching,  not  less,  the 


564       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

wisdom  of  Christ.  Wisdom  is  displayed  not  so  much 
in  doing  the  right  thing,  as  in  doing  it  at  the  right 
time.  The  right  thing,  properly  speaking,  springs  not 
from  wisdom  at  all,  hut  from  an  inherent  principle  of 
justice.  The  time  for  doing  it  is  the  great  distinction 
between  wisdom  and  folly.  It  may  be  said  that  as 
space  is  the  sphere  in  which  Divine  power  is  displayed, 
time  is  the  sphere  for  displaying  Divine  wisdom.  And 
as  power  demands  vast  depths  of  space,  —  immense 
fields  where  suns  and  stars  may  be  spread  out  in  their 
mighty  masses  and  movements,  —  so  wisdom  demands 
lengthened  eras  of  time  to  unfold  its  plans  in  all  their 
gradual  developments  and  wonderful  combinations. 
Over  all  these  developments  the  mind  of  Christ  pre- 
sides. He  is  the  God  of  history,  and  his  wisdom  is 
especially  seen  in  the  way  in  which  the  truths  of  his 
Word  open  out  with  a  light  suited  to  the  requirements 
of  every  period.  We  do  not  speak  here  of  prophecies 
which  meet  their  fulfilment,  but  of  principles  which 
spring  forth  to  guide  men,  as  the  star  came  kindling 
out  of  the  sky  to  point  the  way  to  those  whose  hearts 
were  feeling  after  the  world's  Redeemer. 

No  crisis  has  ever  yet  appeared  when  Christ's  Word 
was  not  ready  to  take  the  van  of  human  movement. 
The  truths  in  their  particular  application  may  have 
lain  unmarked,  —  or  revealed  themselves  only  to  a  few 
sentinels  watching  for  the  dawn,  —  till  some  great  turn 
in  the  life  of  humanity  comes,  and  then  the  principles 
of  freedom  and  right  and  universal  charity  shine  out 
so  clear  and  undoubted,  that  men  wonder  at  their  past 
blindness.  They  were  there  centred  in  the  life  and 
death  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  his  wisdom  is  seen  both 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.       365 

in  having  deposited  them  ages  ago,  and  in  bringing 
them  out  to  view  at  the  fitting  season.  When  so  it  is, 
we  need  not  fear  any  want  of  harmony  between  the 
Word  of  Christ  and  the  progress  of  science.  It  is  a 
subject  that  troubles  not  a  few,  but,  if  they  would  only 
wait  in  calmness,  the  wisdom  of  Christ  will  appear  in 
this  also,  and  God's  revelation  will  be  seen  to  step 
across  the  burning  shares  in  its  path,  without  the  seem- 
ing consciousness  of  an  ordeal.  It  was  never  Christ's 
intention  to  reveal  scientific  truth  in  his  Word ;  but 
He  has  left  ample  verge  and  scope  for  it.  The  inden- 
tations of  the  two  revolving  wheels  will  be  found  to  fit, 
whenever  they  really  come  into  contact ;  and  the  only 
thing  broken  will  be  the  premature  human  harmoniz- 
ings  which  are  thrust  in  between  them. 

Last  of  all,  in  regard  to  Christ,  we  may  learn  His 
patience  as  a  Teacher.  He  is  not  in  restless  commo- 
tion to  have  his  work  done  on  the  instant ;  nor  does 
He  abandon  it  in  discontent  when  men  prove  inapt 
and  slow.  He  has  often  to  say  in  sorrow,  more  than 
in  anger,  "  How  is  it  that  ye  do  not  understand  ?  "  but 
He  patiently  begins  his  labor  again,  and  is  long-suffering 
to  our  ignorance,  as  to  our  sins.  Short-lived  men  must 
speak  out  all  their  mind  before  they  die,  but  the  cen- 
turies belong  to  Christ,  and  He  can  calmly  wait.  He 
knows  that  he  has  time  to  teach  what  He  intends.  He 
knows  also  the  final  and  triumphant  issue,  and  with- 
out haste,  and  without  rest,  He  is  advancing  towards 
it.  "  He  shall  not  fail  nor  be  discouraged  till  He  have 
set  judgment  in  the  earth :  and  the  isles  shall  wait  for 
his  law."  Our  impatience  often  rises  in  the  mean 
while,  and    the    question   with    it,  "  Wherefore    this 


866       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

waste  ?  "  We  wonder  with  a  pain,  which  grows  some- 
times to  tormenting  doubt,  why  weary  ages  roll  on, 
and  darkness  reigns,  and  souls  pass  away  into  the  eter- 
nal future  without  comfort  and  hope  of  the  truth.  It 
is  a  right  feeling,  in  as  far  as  it  urges  us  to  pray  and 
labor  with  all  our  energy  for  the  enlightenment  of  poor 
darkened  spirits,  and  for  the  diffusion  of  God's  saving 
gospel ;  but,  beyond  this,  we  must  be  calm  at  heart,  as 
believing  that  the  issues  are  ordered  by  an  infinite 
mind  and  sovereign  will,  and  that  Christ  will  prove 
that  the  delay  on  the  road  in  no  degree  detracts  from 
the  wisdom  and  kindness  which  shall  shine  forth  in 
the  end. 

The  subject  we  have  been  considering  may  teach  us 
some  conclusions  also  concerning  our  common  human 
nature. 

We  may  surely  learn  to  take  large  and  tolerant  views 
of  it.  When  we  see  how  slowly  the  best  of  men  have 
apprehended  the  clearest  of  all  truths,  we  must  not 
be  provoked  at  what  we  call  the  stupidity  and  preju- 
dice of  our  contemporaries ;  nor  fret  unreasonably 
because  antiquated  opinions,  as  they  seem  to  us,  obsti- 
nately hold  their  ground.  If  the  great  Teacher  had 
to  wait,  we  may  be  content  to  do  so.  There  are  errors 
which  give  way  only  when  God  takes  them  into  his 
own  hand  by  the  events  of  his  Providence.  They  do 
not  yield  to  reasoning,  but  to  a  change  in  the  point  of 
view  which  reveals  an  entire  side  of  things  previously 
hidden.  It  is  marvellous  how  a  turn  in  the  road  opens 
whole  landscapes  of  truth  to  men,  and  lets  them  see 
what  no  logic  could  convince  them  of.  Such  changes 
make  us  say  with  the  ancient  patriarch,  "  Behold  God 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.        367 

exalteth  his  power ;  who  teacheth  like  him  ?  "  And 
yet  reasoning  has  its  value,  as  it  prepares  for  them,  and 
we  must  not  weary  in  the  use  of  it  in  all  charity  and 
candor.  It  may  be  slowly  sowing  the  seed  which  God 
will  quicken  in  a  day. 

Next,  we  may  cherish  very  hopeful  views  of  human 
nature.  There  are  many  grounds  for  this,  but  here  is 
one,  —  that  there  must  be  noble  things  in  store  for 
that  race  with  which  the  Son  of  God  is  contented  to 
have  such  patience.  If  the  great  Husbandman  waits 
so  long  for  the  feeble,  springing  blade,  how  precious 
must  the  full  harvest  be !  There  will  be  plentiful 
stores  of  pure  wisdom  for  the  world,  and  boundless 
treasures  for  each  immortal  soul  that  covets  truth. 
There  are  ages  for  the  world  to  learn  in,  and  an  eter- 
nity for  the  individual  ;  and  when  the  soul  is  able  to 
bear  full  light,  how  many  things  will  the  great  Teacher 
have  to  disclose !  What  secrets  in  providence  and 
grace  shall  be  uncovered  —  what  blank  deserts  on  the 
map  of  knowledge  filled  up  with  rich  discoveries  — 
what  pauses  and  silences  in  the  speech  of  Christ,  re- 
placed by  matter  of  adoring  wonder  and  praise  !  We 
shall  find  out  why  we  can  get  no  answer  to  many  ques- 
tions now.  Where  we  are  compelled  to  stand  in  awe 
before  mysteries  which  stretch  away  like  trackless 
wastes,  we  shall  advance  and  see  proofs  of  larger  wis- 
dom and  deeper  love  than  it  entered  our  hearts  to 
conceive.  "  Then  the  eyes  of  the  blind  shall  be 
opened,  and  the  ears  of  the  deaf  shall  be  unstopped, 
and  the  tongue  of  the  dumb  shall  sing,  for  in  the  wil- 
derness shall  waters  break  out,  and  streams  in  the 
desert." 


368       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

It  is  a  token  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  that 
God  has  implanted  in  man  a  boundless  desire  of  knowl- 
edge, and  given  him  so  limited  a  time  to  satisfy  it,  — 
and  it  is  ground  for  expecting  all  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge  from  Jesus  Christ,  that  He 
came  into  this  world,  possessed  of  them,  and  yet  kept 
silence  on  so  much  we  long  to  know.  When  our  inabil- 
ity to  receive  is  removed,  —  when  we  can  take  no  harm 
from  premature  lessons,  —  we  shall  not  have  to  com- 
plain of  his  silence.  "  In  that  day  we  shall  ask  Him 
nothing."  We  shall  drink  at  the  fountain-head  of 
illumination,  see  light  in  God's  light,  and  find  it  all 
the  sweeter  that  it  comes  from  Him  into  whose  lips 
grace  is  poured.  "  The  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the 
throne  shall  feed  them,  and  lead  them  to  living  foun- 
tains of  waters  ;  "  and  the  increase  of  knowledge  shall 
not  be  increase  of  sorrow  —  "  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes." 

In  regard  to  the  things  which  Christ  does  not  tell 
us,  let  us  be  thankful  to  Him  for  his  silence.  The 
cloud  that  veils  full  knowledge  "  is  a  cloud  of  love." 
Many  tilings  about  our  great  future,  and  almost  every 
thing  about  our  earthly  future,  are  concealed  from  us. 
If  we  look  back  with  a  thoughtful  heart,  we  cannot  but 
feel  how  wisely  and  kindly  He  has  unrolled  the  volume 
of  life,  and  stood  by  us  and  strengthened  us  when  we 
had  hard  things  to  read  in  it.  Events  that  would  have 
seemed  intolerable  have  happened,  and  lie  behind  us 
with  a  softened  light  shed  over  them.  We  may  be 
grateful  that  they  were  not  foretold,  —  and  grateful 
still  more  if  we  have  been  carried  through  them,  not 
by   having    our    hearts    made    hard,    but    our    souls 


Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth.        369 

made  strong.  It  may  help  us  to  be  less  distrustful 
about  what  things  lie  still  before  us.  When  we  ean 
bear  them,  He  will  let  us  know  them,  —  or,  when  He 
lets  us  know  them,  He  will  enable  us  to  bear  them. 

Finally,  let  us  be  ehiefly  concerned  about  knowing 
the  one  great  thing  which  Christ  lias  to  say  to  us. 
There  is  a  message  which  stands  out  in  his  Word  dis- 
tinct from  the  beginning  to  the  close :  "  This  is  life 
eternal,  that  they  might  know  Thee,  the  only  true 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  Thou  hast  sent."  What- 
ever disputes  men  may  raise  about  it,  the  way  is  very 
plain  and  very  near  to  any  man  who  will  open  the 
Book  and  read  with  a  willing  mind.  The  wayfaring 
men,  though  fools,  shall  not  err  therein.  The  repose 
of  the  heart  on  God  as  made  known  in  Christ,  is  all 
that  is  required,  and  the  surrender  of  the  life  will  fol- 
low. This  is  the  one  only  thing  that  can  extract  from 
the  life  all  other  things  hard  to  be  borne.  The  hard- 
est parts  of  life,  —  the  most  bitter  things  in  it,  —  are 
written  by  our  own  hands,  —  the  upbraidings  of  con- 
science, the  stings  of  memory,  the  reproach  of  wasted 
opportunities,  and  the  falsity  and  folly  which  make  our 
life  often  seem  so  mean  to  ourselves.  We  cannot  bear 
these  things  now,  and  how  shall  we  when  a  clearer 
light  of  truth  is  poured  on  them?  But  Christ  has 
words  for  them  where  all  reticence  is  cast  away,  — 
words  of  full  pardon  for  the  past,  and  a  strength  for  the 
future  that  will  help  us  to  a  real  and  noble  life.  "  As 
God  is  true,  his  word  toward  you  is  not  yea  and  nay. 
For  all  the  promises  of  God  in  Him  are  yea,  and  in 
Him  amen,  unto  the  glory  of  God." 

There  are  times  in  the  future  for  learning   other 

24 


370       Christ's  reticence  in  teaching  truth. 

truths,  but  for  this  our  time  is  always  ready.  It  is  a 
word  which  is  ever  nigh  us,  and  ever  needed.  It  is 
that  Gospel  which  makes  Christ  the  salvation  and 
desire  of  every  soul  that  has  learned  to  know  itself 
and  Him,  and  that  brings  it  to  say,  "  How  sweet  are 
thy  words  unto  my  taste !  yea  sweeter  than  honey  to 
my  mouth !  Through  thy  precepts  I  get  understand- 
ing, therefore  I  hate  every  false  way."  When  this 
view  of  God  is  gained,  all  other  things  will  come  in 
due  time  and  in  wise  order,  and  all  "  his  words  shall 
stand  fast  to  you  for  ever  and  ever  and  be  done  in  truth 
and  uprightness  !  " 


XXI. 


|/ic   |aat  Hattoror.      fcfefa   jjasire  for  it 


(BEFORE    COMMUNION.) 

"  And  He  said  unto  them,  With  desire  I  have  desired  to  eat  this 
passover  with  you  before  I  suffer" — Luke  xxii.  15. 


HESE  words  were  spoken  on  a  remarkable 
occasion  —  on  the  night  before  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  suffered  on  the  cross.  It  was  on  this 
night  that  the  Passover  feast  was  kept  by  the  Jewish 
nation,  to  celebrate  the  most  wonderful  event  in  their 
history,  —  what  may  be  called  both  the  commencement 
and  the  key-stone  of  it,  —  the  deliverance  from  the 
land  of  Egypt. 

Our  Saviour  had  often  joined  in  the  Passover  before, 
but  never  had  He  looked  forward  to  it  with  such 
feeling  as  now.  "  With  desire  have  I  desired  to  eat 
this  passover  with  you,"  —  with  intense  and  ardent 
desire  —  and  He  gives  the  reason,  "  before  I  suffer." 

"  Before  I  suffer  !  "  They  seem  strange  words  from 
such  lips,  —  from  Him  who  had  already  earned  his 
title  to  be  "  the  man  of  sorrows,"  —  who  had  passed 
through  privation  and  reproach  and   grief,  and  who 


372  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

seems  to  count  all  these  as  nothing  to  that  which  lay 
before  Him.  It  is  because  He  is  standing  on  the  verge 
of  Gethsemane,  and  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  cross, 
and  such  words,  "  before  I  suffer,"  tell  us  that  there 
was  an  agony  of  endurance  in  view  which  was  to  cast 
into  the  shade  all  that  lay  behind  Him.  It  is  this  suf- 
fering that  makes  the  death  of  Christ  the  centre  of 
Gospel  truth,  and  that  brings  us  together  here  to  re- 
member Him  who  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions, 
and  bruised  for  our  iniquities. 

"  This  passover  before  I  suffer/"  It  tells  us,  surely, 
that  there  was  some  connection  between  the  Passover 
and  the  suffering  of  Christ,  and  a  special  connection  in 
this  Passover  at  which  He  and  his  disciples  were  now 
sitting  down.  It  may  be  suitable  for  us,  when  seated 
at  the  Lord's  table,  to  think  of  some  of  the  reasons 
why  the  Saviour  desired  so  earnestly  to  join  in  this 
last  Passover  before  He  suffered. 

1.  One  reason  was,  that  the  Passover  had  now 
reached  its  end,   and  found  its  full  meaning. 

That  the  Passover  was  a  real  emblem  of  Christ  and 
his  redemption,  no  one  of  us  can  doubt.  It  is  no 
more  unreasonable  to  expect  typical  forms  in  history 
than  in  nature  ;  above  all,  in  that  Divine  history  which 
the  hand  of  God  specially  constructed  to  be  a  spring 
of  blessing  to  the  family  of  man.  The  roots  of  a  tree, 
with  all  its  fibres  and  feelers,  repeat  themselves  in  the 
air  in  shoots  and  branches,  till  they  are  crowned  with 
blossom  and  fruit.  The  lower  life  of  the  creation  has 
a  dim  resemblance  to  the  higher  life  in  man,  toward 
which  it  is  struggling,  —  for  God  forms  his  world  on 
one  great  plan,  and  makes  the  first  prophetic  of  the 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  373 

last.  Even  so  all  the  spiritual  history  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament is  advancing  to  the  second  and  greater  Man, 
the  Lord  from  heaven.  It  casts  itself  into  foreshadow- 
ing shapes  and  types  of  Him,  because  his  hand  is  on  it, 
and  his  life  is  in  it.  It  is  struggling  toward  Him, 
taught  and  led  by  his  Spirit,  and  it  cannot  but  resem- 
ble Him.     He  is  its  root  and  its  offspring. 

Among  all  these  types  the  Passover  holds  the  fore- 
most place,  —  floating  down  through  the  old  dispensa- 
tion to  tell  of  its  greatest  deliverance,  —  as  this  com- 
munion has  come  down  to  us  to  tell  of  the  great  re- 
demption of  the  New.  It  was  now  about  to  resign  its 
charge,  for  it  had  served  its  purpose.  It  had  stirred, 
year  by  year,  the  ashes  of  memory  in  the  Jewish  heart, 
and  kindled  them  up  into  the  flame  of  hope,  —  had 
taught  men  to  look  for  a  greater  prophet  than  Moses, 
and  to  long  for  a  higher  salvation  than  the  freedom 
from  Egypt.  And  now,  with  this  last  Passover,  it  has 
come.  It  has  come,  with  many  of  its  forms  like  that 
first  deliverance,  but  with  a  spiritual  depth  and  gran- 
deur in  it  beyond  what  the  best  of  those  ancient  saints 
could  ask  or  think. 

There  is  thraldom  more  miserable  than  that  of 
Egypt,  and  yielding  as  little  recompense  to  those  who 
toil  under  it.  There  is  a  tyrant  stronger  and  more 
inveterate  to  keep  his  hold.  The  iron  has  entered 
deeper  into  the  soul ;  for  the  slave  is  in  love  with  his 
chains  even  when  they  gall  and  fret  him.  Herein  lies 
the  deepest  misery  of  the  bondage,  that  it  is  self-main- 
tained,—  and  herein  it  entails  not  only  misery,  but 
guilt.  The  slave  is  also  a  rebel,  and  the  work  of  sin 
has  for  its  wages  death.     It  is  the  condition  of  man, — 


374  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

of  all  of  us,  —  by  nature,  whether  conscious  of  it  or 
not,  whether  clasping  our  misery,  as  the  maniac  his 
fetters,  or  wakened  to  cry,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I 
am !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this 
death  ?  " 

But  here,  too,  is  our  deliverer.  "  If  the  Son  shall 
make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed."  The  Captain 
of  our  salvation  has  appeared  with  the  words,  "  The 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon  me  ;  because  the  Lord 
hath  anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto  the  meek  ; 
He  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  pro- 
claim liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening  of  the 
prison  to  them  that  are  bound."  He  offers  a  free  par- 
don to  the  rebels,  and  full  freedom  to  the  slaves.  "  Ye 
have  sold  yourselves  for  nought ;  and  ye  shall  be 
redeemed  without  money." 

"  Ye  who  have  sold  for  nought 
The  heritage  above, 
Receive  it  hack  unbought 
The  gift  of  Jesus'  love." 

The  heritage  begins  now  in  the  deliverance  of  the 
conscience  from  guilt,  and  of  the  soul  from  the  love  of 
sin,  —  and  ends  in  being  "  delivered  from  the  bondage 
of  corruption  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children 
of  God,"  in  a  heavenly  country,  of  which  the  earthly 
Canaan  was  the  dim  and  distant  figure.  The  ancient 
covenant,  which  changed  the  slaves  of  Egypt  into  God's 
servants,  gives  place  to  the  new,  which  changes  his 
servants  into  his  sons,  and  commences  that  golden 
chain,  "  If  children,  then  heirs  :  heirs  of  God  and  joint 
heirs  with  Christ ;  if  so  be  that  we  suffer  with  Him,  that 
we  may  be  also  glorified  together." 


375 


And  here,  too,  are  the  means  of  the  redemption. 
The  Passover,  which  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  the 
covenant  the  door-posts  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  descends 
until  its  last  victim  dies  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
cross  of  Christ.  Its  efficacy  is  gone,  for  He  has  ap- 
peared who  is  to  finish  transgression,  to  make  an  end 
of  sin,  and  to  bring  in  an  everlasting  righteousness. 
At  best  it  was  a  shadow,  but  now  the  great  reality  has 
come,  —  "  Christ  our  passover,  sacrificed  for  us."  It 
is  no  unconscious  victim,  but  one  who  freely  gives 
Himself,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  He  may  bring  us 
to  God.  It  is  no  corruptible  thing  that  is  the  ransom 
price,  but  the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  lamb 
without  blemish  and  without  spot.  In  this  was  seen 
the  height  of  Divine  love  and  the  depth  of  human  sin 
and  loss,  that  the  highest  in  the  universe  devoted  Him- 
self for  the  lowest,  and  died  the  death  for  them,  which 
was  the  ransom  of  the  soul.  He  who  made  the  world 
came  into  the  world  to  save  it,  and  bore  for  it  the-  bur- 
den of  shame  and  guilt.  It  is  the  love  of  Christ,  and 
it  passeth  knowledge. 

And  now  He  advances  to  close  the  old  and  open  the 
new,  to  disperse  all  the  shadows  with  the  one  light,  and 
fulfil  all  the  promises  with  the  one  blessing  —  even 
Himself  —  "  for  of  Him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  of 
God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and 
sanctification,  and  redemption."  The  foreshadowed 
sufferings  of  that  ancient  covenant  all  meet  in  his  cross, 
and  its  promised  blessings  all  flow  from  it.  He  is  the 
victim  and  the  offerer,  the  passover  and  the  Moses  ;  He 
endures  and  does,  suffers  and  saves.  He  passed  through 
a  deeper  than  Egypt's  darkness,  —  was  baptized  with  the 


376  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

baptism  of  blood,  —  was  the  slain  larnb,  and  stricken 
first-born  for  our  sins.  He  led  his  chosen  to  the  sea  which 
barred  the  way,  and  stretched  over  it  his  delivering 
cross,  and  it  opened,  and  a  way  was  made  through  the 
deep  for  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  to  pass  over.  He  is 
the  heavenly  manna  —  the  water  and  the  smitten  rock, 
—  the  pillar  of  defence  and  light,  —  the  ark  of  the  cov- 
enant that  dries  up  Jordan's  stream,  —  the  tree  of  life 
that  scatters  its  healing  leaves  and  sheds  its  fruit 
through  all  the  goodly  land.  The  Divine  history  of 
the  past  now  completes  its  cycle,  and  this  last  Pass- 
over begins  to  speak  the  word  of  the  cross,  —  "It  is  fin- 
ished." The  cloud  of  the  Lord  has  found  the  true 
tabernacle,  —  the  star  rests  over  the  home  of  redemp- 
tion, —  and  all  the  sacrifices  take  up  the  message  of  the 
forerunner,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !  " 

And  when  at  last  the  fountain  of  grace  hidden  in 
the  law  is  about  to  break  forth  into  the  broad  rivers 
and  streams  of  the  gospel,  should  not  He,  from  whose 
death  the  water  of  life  is  to  flow,  be  present  and  be 
moved  at  the  token  of  this  great  time  ?  His  footsteps 
re-echo  through  all  the  paths  of  the  ancient  church  as 
He  advances  "  to  repair  the  long  desolations  ;  "  and  His 
voice  is  heard, — "  Lo  I  come;  in  the  volume  of  the 
book  it  is  written  of  me,  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  0  my 
God."  Through  his  earthly  life  He  had  looked  forward 
with  ardor,  mixed  with  fear,  to  the  conflict  of  the  cross, 
as  a  warrior  to  the  victory,  which  can  be  reached  only 
through  battle,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood,  —  "I 
have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  strait- 
ened till  it  be  accomplished?" — and  now  that  He 
stands  on  the  verge  of  it  and  grasps  the  sign  of  his 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  377 

death  and  his  triumph,  should  He  not  pour  out  his 
heart  in  such  longing  words,  "  With  desire  have  I 
desired  to  eat  this  Passover  with  you  before  I  suffer  "  ? 

2.  Another  reason  why  Christ  desired  to  be  present 
at  this  Passover  was,  for  the  support  of  his  own  soul  in 
the  approaching  struggle. 

"  Before  I  suffer !  "  He  had  a  terrible  conflict  to 
meet,  for  which  He  longed,  and  at  which  He  trembled. 
There  is  something  wonderful  in  the  way  in  which  the 
Gospels  let  us  look  into  the  soul  of  Christ,  into  its 
very  faintings  and  misgivings,  —  as  He  reasons  with 
Himself,  —  "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled,  and  what  shall 
I  say  ?  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour  ?  but  for  this 
cause  came  I  unto  this  hour." 

It  is  that  we  may  feel  how  human  He  is  in  the  weak- 
ness of  humanity,  and  how  real  the  suffering  was  which 
He  had  to  endure.  We  are  ready  to  think  of  Christ  as 
if,  by  his  Divine  nature,  He  stood  above  all  the  sense 
of  human  infirmity.  But  He  felt  it  as  we  feel  it,  and  fell 
back  on  the  same  sources  of  support.  His  hunger,  and 
thirst,  and  weariness,  and  sweat  of  blood,  were  no  mere 
semblance,  —  nor  any  more  were  his  fears  and  heart- 
sinkings,  his  wounded  spirit  and  terrible  sense  of  aban- 
donment. His  tears  were  real,  and  his  look  on  Peter, 
which  came  from  the  heart  and  went  to  it,  and  his  cry, 
—  "  If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me,  0  my 
Father  !  "  We  might  doubt  the  true  Divinity  of  Christ 
as  soon  as  his  real  humanity,  for  He  must  touch  both, 
and  touch  them  entirely,  if  He  is  to  bring  them  together. 
And  as  his  hunger  was  relieved  by  bread,  and  his 
thirst  by  water,  so  was  his  soul  by  God's  appointed 
means.     The  utterances  of  Scripture  which  had  com- 


378  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

forted  hearts  before  Him,  —  the  supplies  of  God's  table, 
—  and  the  aids  of  prayer,  were  also  his  means  of 
refreshment.  It  is  an  everlasting  consolation  to  think 
of  this.  The  seats  which  the  Lord  of  the  way  has 
made  for  poor  pilgrims  to  rest  upon,  and  the  stores 
treasured  up  for  weary  hearts,  have  been  tried  and 
tested  by  the  Lord  himself,  and  He  knows  by  experi- 
ence how  to  guide  their  feet  to  each  fitting  place, — 
"  He  can  have  compassion  on  the  ignorant,  and  on 
them  that  are  out  of  the  way,  for  that  He  himself  also 
was  compassed  with  infirmity." 

But  there  is  still  more  in  his  longing  wish  to  eat  of 
this  Passover.  It  is  not  merely  to  think  through  it  of 
all  that  God  has  done,  and  hold  communion  with  the 
Father  of  spirits  ;  but  to  do  all  this  in  fellowship  with 
human  hearts,  —  "to  eat  this  passover  with  you  before 
I  suffer."  We  may  feel  startled  at  the  thought  that 
the  Son  of  God  should  be  dependent  on  such  aid  at 
such  a  moment.  And  yet  it  is  in  keeping  with  all  his 
history  —  with  the  whole  plan  of  redemption.  The 
Divine  and  human  are  inseparably  interwoven  in  the 
life  and  work  of  Christ.  When  He  is  giving  proof  of 
his  Divinity,  He  applies  to  men  for  the  relief  of  his 
hunger  and  thirst,  —  and  when  He  is  accomplishing 
their  salvation  He  leans  on  them  for  the  help  of  his 
sorrows,  and  has  his  fainting  hands  held  up,  as  those 
of  the  great  prophet  of  Israel  were  by  Aaron  and  Hur. 

There  is  surely  nothing  more  touching  in  all  the  life 
of  the  Saviour  of  men  than  that  request  in  the  garden, 
"  Tarry  ye  here,  and  watch  with  me."  It  shows  so 
much  his  weakness  and  his  strength,  —  the  wonderful 
sympathy,  which  made  the  suffering  of  his  soul  so  full 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  379 

of  anguish,  and  which  yet  made  Him  so  strong  to  hear 
it.  In  Gethsemane,  as  afterwards  upon  the  cross,  He 
had  an  agony  which  none  could  measure  hut  Himself. 
He  entered  a  cloud  from  the  bosom  of  which  we  hear 
only  the  broken  cries  of  the  struggle.  But  as  near  as 
men  can  come,  He  entreats  them  to  approach, — 
"  Closer,  closer,  brethren  of  humanity,  to  the  Brother 
who  suffers  for  you,  and  suffers  as  none  other  can !  " 
There  are  moments  when  in  our  anguish  we  can  do  no 
more  than  clasp  the  hand  of  a  fellow-man  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  feel  upheld  by  the  touch.  Though  utterly 
silent,  it  mingles  with  our  soul  and  breaks  the  fright- 
ful solitude.  With  such  a  feeling,  the  Saviour  sought 
the  nearness  of  his  poor  fainting  friends  in  the  garden, 
—  the  strongest  human  spirit  leaning  upon  human 
weakness  for  help,  and  showing  in  this  his  power,  for 
it  was  this  sympathy  which  nerved  Him  to  endure  the 
agony  for  them. 

"  He  encircled  Him  with  love,  made  it 
Impossible  for  Him  to  fail,  so  watched." 

So  God  assures  us  that  those  can  help  suffering  best 
who  can  come  nearest  to  its  weakness,  and  that  Christ 
is  our  Saviour  by  taking  on  Himself  every  thing  that  is 
ours,  except  that  which  would  have  unfitted  Him  to  be 
our  Saviour,  —  a  personal  share  in  our  sin. 

With  this  same  feeling  He  desired  with  desire  to  eat 
this  Passover  with  them  before  He  suffered.  To  have 
them  full  in  view  was  to  see  the  front  rank  of  that 
innumerable  army  of  his  redeemed,  —  "the  joy  set 
before  Him,  for  which  He  endured  the  cross  and 
despised  the  shame."  It  recalled  the  aim  of  all  his 
life  and  death,  —  the  end  for  which  he  left  his  throne 


380  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

and  walked  the  thorny  path  to  his  cross,  till  now  He 
stood  beneath  its  thickest  shadow.  It  made  that  end 
rise  clear  above  the  clouds  of  his  own  depressing 
thoughts,  and  gave  Him  an  object  to  which  his  whole 
soul  went  forth,  as  a  mother  to  her  helpless  child,  when 
in  some  dreadful  moment  she  forgets  danger  and  casts 
self  away,  and  will  do  and  dare  what  makes  strong 
men  tremble.  It  is  the  figure  of  his  own  Word  which 
makes  the  tenderest  human  love  a  drop  of  the  Divine 
to  lead  us  to  the  fountain :  "  Yea,  she  may  forget,  yet 
will  not  I  forget  thee.  Behold,  I  have  graven  thee  on 
the  palms  of  my  hands." 

And  when  we  see  Christ  moving  to  his  cross, — 
girdling  and  strengthening  Himself  with  bonds  of 
sympathy,  —  it  is  to  make  us  feel  the  outgoing  of 
God's  own  nature  to  the  children  of  men.  We  could 
be  satisfied  with  no  gifts  from  Him,  however  great  and 
godlike,  unless  his  love  were  in  them,  —  for  in  his  love 
we  have  Himself.  We  feel  that  God,  who  has  given  a 
heart  to  man,  must  have  a  heart  to  meet  it,  else  amid 
all  his  gifts  we  are  orphans.  Were  He  to  cast  down 
his  redemption  from  an  inaccessible  throne,  with  a 
pride  that  cares  not  for  thanks,  or  an  indifference  that 
despises  affection,  it  would  not  be  the  redemption 
which  our  souls  desire.  But  neither  does  He.  His 
salvation  does  not  coldly  drop  from  his  hand,  it  enters 
with  his  heart ;  and  that  heart  is  opened  in  the  sym- 
pathy and  sacrifice  of  the  Son  of  God.  The  Sovereign 
of  the  universe  wishes  to  be  our  friend  and  father,  to 
satisfy  the  thirst  of  the  soul,  which  longs  to  be  pressed 
to  an  infinite  heart8 — which  cannot  feel  it  up  among 
all  the  throbbing  stars,   and   finds  it  only  when  He 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  381 

comes  down  through  them  to  speak  the  words,  —  "I 
will  give  unto  him  that  is  athirst  of  the  fountain  of  the 
water  of  life  freely.  And  I  will  be  his  God,  and  he 
shall  be  my  son." 

3.  We  are  led  naturally  to  this  further  reason  — 
that  Christ  desired  to  be  present  at  the  last  Passover 
because  his  friends  needed  special  comfort.  "  To  eat 
this  passover  with  you  before  I  suffer."  These  words 
must  have  told  them  what  they  were  beginning  to  fear. 
They  had  been  long  dimly  conscious  of  the  chilling 
breath  of  the  coming  tempest,  and  now  the  tone  of  his 
speech,  —  the  deepening  solemnity  and  tenderness, — 
made  them  feel  it  was  close  upon  them.  "  Because  I 
have  said  these  things  unto  you,  sorrow  hath  filled 
your  hearts."  Their  cherished  expectations  were  to 
be  crushed,  —  their  Master  taken  from  their  head  by 
a  cruel  death,  —  and  they  scattered  as  sheep  without  a 
shepherd. 

It  is  a  dreadful  thing  when  the  heart's  dearest 
affections  are  torn  in  pieces,  and  the  faith  broken 
which  should  bind  them  up.  We  can  scarcely  realize 
the  trial  through  which  the  disciples  had  to  pass,  when 
He  whom  they  loved  and  reverenced  above  all  on  earth 
was  crucified  before  their  eyes,  and  their  hope  in  God 
buried  in  his  grave.  They  had  to  walk  through  a 
darkness  almost  inconceivable  by  us,  until  their  confi- 
dence was  established  in  the  risen  Redeemer.  But  He 
himself  understood  it  all,  for  it  was  the  shadowy  edge 
of  his  own  deep  darkness,  and  He  wished  to  prepare 
them  for  it.  He  desired  to  make  his  converse  with 
them  at  this  Passover  in  the  upper  chamber,  a  strength 
and  consolation  to  them  against  the  sore  temptations 


382  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

they  were  to  encounter ;  and  He  opens  his  heart  to 
them,  and  to  his  Father,  in  that  heavenly  discourse 
and  prayer  which  have  been  the  treasure  of  his  Church 
in  every  age,  —  more  to  it  than  the  parting  song  of 
Moses  was  to  the  Israelites  in  all  their  conflicts,  —  and 
sounding  to  us  like  the  silver  bells  on  the  high  priest's 
garment,  which  told  the  people  without  that  he  was 
still  living,  and  interceding  for  them  within  the  vail. 
When  we  would  have  our  hearts  warmed  to  this 
memorial  of  the  death  of  Christ,  let  us  think  of  the 
thoughts  that  then  glowed  around  it,  and  that  breathe 
of  the  very  incense  which  He  offers  for  us  now  in  the 
golden  censer  before  the  throne. 

Who  can  tell  how  these  words  of  Christ,  and  the 
tones  of  them,  lingered  upon  the  ears  and  hearts  of  the 
disciples,  to  preserve  them  from  utter  despair  ?  those 
warnings  of  coming  tribulation,  and  the  promise  of  the 
Divine  peace  which  was  to  keep  them  amid  all  —  the 
foreshadowings  of  bereavement  and  death  ;  but  the 
open  door,  not  far  distant,  of  the  Father's  house  of 
many  mansions,  with  the  assurance  of  meeting  there, 
and  of  having  every  shadow  chased  away,  and  every 
tear  wiped  off  for  ever  !  "  Ye  now  have  sorrow,  but 
I  shall  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice,  and 
your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you." 

And  certainly  it  was  not  for  them  alone  that  Christ 
desired  to  be  present  and  bequeath  these  comforts. 
It  was  for  those  also  "  who  should  believe  on  Him 
through  their  word  "  —  for  us,  here  and  now,  and  for 
all  in  every  part  of  the  world  who  are  "  broken  in  their 
hearts  and  grieved  in  their  minds."  The  tenderest 
words  are  in  keeping  only  with  the  tenderest  moments. 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  383 

There  are  hours  which  unlock  the  lips  to  speak  and 
the  heart  to  hear,  and  He  longs  for  this  hour  to  un- 
burden his  soul's  emotion,  and  gather  all  its  deepest 
utterances  round  this  memorial  which  has  come  down 
from  age  to  age  to  tell  of  the  love  of  Him  who  poured 
out  his  soul  unto  the  death  for  us. 

And  may  we  not  believe  that  Christ  still  prepares 
his  people  for  what  may  be  lying  before  them,  and  that 
He  employs  his  comforts  "  to  prevent "  them  —  to  go 
before  them  —  in  the  day  of  their  calamity  ?  If  we 
wisely  observe  our  own  life  and  that  of  our  Christian 
friends,  we  may  frequently  see  that  trials  and  death 
have  not  only  their  forecast  shadows,  but  their  fore- 
glancing  illuminations  of  soul  and  resting-places  in 
providence,  which  are  sent  as  a  support  against  the 
day  of  battle  and  of  war.  When  darkness  is  about  to 
fall,  God  has  lamps  to  put  into  the  hand  by  anticipa- 
tion. He  who  made  his  ark  go  before  his  ancient 
people  in  all  their  wanderings,  causes  the  consolations 
of  his  Word  to  smooth  the  way  of  them  that  look  to 
Him.  He  knows  what  painful  steps  are  before  us  in 
the  journey  of  life,  what  privations,  what  bereave- 
ments,—  it  may  be  that  the  most  solemn  step  of  all 
must  ere  long  be  taken,  —  and  He  desires  to  eat  this 
Passover  with  us  "  before  we  suffer."  May  the  sign 
help  us  so  to  clasp  our  hand  on  Him,  that  we  may  feel 
we  grasp  the  rod  and  staff  of  the  promise,  and  that 
when  "  our  flesh  and  our  heart  faileth,  He  may  be  the 
strength  of  our  heart  and  our  portion  for  ever." 

4.  The  last  reason  we  give  for  Christ's  desire  to  be 
present  at  this  Passover  is,  that  it  looked  forward  to  all 
the  future  of  his  Church  and  people. 


384  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  Passover,  Christ  instituted 
that  communion  of  the  Supper  which  has  come  down 
through  many  generations,  and  goes  forth  into  all  the 
world  as  the  remembrance  of  his  death,  and  the  pledge 
of  the  blessings  it  has  purchased  for  us.  How  frail  this 
little  ark  which  his  hand  has  sent  out  on  those  stormy 
waters,  but  how  safely  it  has  carried  its  precious 
freight !  Empires  have  risen  and  fallen,  society 
been  tossed  in  wild  convulsion,  and  yet  it  holds  on  its 
way,  and  will  do,  for  Christ  himself  is  in  it  with  that 
heart  of  love  which  shall  yet  bless  a  whole  sinful 
world. 

If  Christ  was  ever  to  sit  down  at  his  own  table  on 
earth  it  must  be  now,  and  was  it  not  fitting  that  He 
should  greatly  desire  it  ? 

It  was  an  engagement  to  be  present  at  every  other 
communion  where  his  friends  meet  to  remember  Him 
—  a  promise  to  be  present  with  them,  not  in  the  corpo- 
ral and  carnal  way  some  dream  of,  but  with  a  true 
spiritual  nearness  which  makes  good  his  own  words, 
"Yet  a  little  while  and  the  world  seeth  Me  no  more, 
but  ye  see  Me  ;  "  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto 
the  end  of  the  world."  When  we  look  back  through 
time  to  that  first  night,  we  see  Him  blessing  the  bread 
and  breaking  it,  and  giving  to  the  disciples,  and  the 
disciples  to  the  multitude,  till  it  reaches  the  far-off 
ranks  in  which  we  gather  round  Him.  This  makes  of 
all  communions  a  single  fellowship,  and  brings  the 
scattered  companies  of  Christians  into  one  Church,  of 
which  He  is  the  Head  unseen,  —  but  the  felt  and  ever- 
living  life. 

And  this  presence  of  his,  at  the  first  communion, 


Christ's  desire  for  it.  385 

looks  still  farther  —  on  to  the  period  when,  instead  of 
his  Spirit,  we  shall  have  Himself.  He  desired  to  take 
his  place  in  person  at  the  first  communion  in  our 
world,  and  when  the  great  communion  opens  in 
heaven,  He  shall  be  seen  in  his  place  once  more.  It 
was  his  ardent  wish  in  leaving,  to  impress  upon  the 
hearts  of  his  friends  the  confident  expectation  of  meet- 
ing Him  again,  and  of  finding  Him  the  same  in  affec- 
tion as  when  He  parted  from  them.  This  was  to  be 
their  star  of  hope,  rising  over  every  wave,  re-appearing 
from  every  cloud.  In  his  farewell  communion  address 
in  John's  Gospel,  we  find  Him  constantly  recurring  to 
it :  —  "I  shall  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall 
rejoice,  and  your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you."  This 
is  the  express  meaning  breathed  into  the  ordinance  by 
his  own  words,  —  "I  say  unto  you,  I  will  not  drink 
henceforth  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine,  until  that  day  when 
I  drink  it  new  with  you  in  my  Father's  kingdom ; " 
and  it  is  the  point  of  the  apostle's  declaration,  —  "  As 
often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do 
show  the  Lord's  death  till  He  come." 

One  object  of  Christ's  presence,  then,  at  this  com- 
munion, was  to  make  it  the  promise  and  the  pledge 
of  his  great  return,  when  He  shall  change  earth  to 
heaven,  —  faith  to  sight,  —  and  these  emblems  into 
his  own  glorious  Person.  The  Passover  came  down 
through  long  ages,  pointing  back  to  the  deliverance 
of  Egypt,  and  forward  to  the  coming  of  Christ ;  and 
Christ  himself  changed  it  into  this  memorial,  which 
looks  back  to  his  death,  and  forward  to  his  second 
coming.  It  is  the  grand  New  Testament  type,  which 
has  a  hand  of  faith  to  point  to  Christ's  cross,  and  an- 

25 


386  THE   LAST   PASSOVER. 

other  of  hope  to  point  us  to  his  throne  —  the  pillar 
which  accompanies  the  Church's  march,  with  its  side 
of  cloud  and  sorrow,  but  also  its  side  of  light  and 

joy- 
Dear  as  this  memorial  is  to  the  Christian  heart,  it  is 
but  the  substitute  for  something  dearer  far  —  the  per- 
sonal presence  of  our  Saviour  and  Lord.  In  due  time 
it  likewise  shall  surrender  its  place  and  its  use.  The 
cup  of  communion  which  we  now  hold  has  come  down 
to  us  from  his  own  hand  ;  and  we  send  it  forward  until 
it  shall  reach  the  hand  that  gave  it  to  us.  He  will 
resume  that  cup  to  cast  it  into  the  river  of  his  pleas- 
ures, to  disappear  there  for  ever.  It  shall  be  needed 
no  more,  for  it  brings  but  a  feeble  draught  to  parched 
lips  in  the  wilderness,  and  thenceforth  we  shall  eter- 
nally drink  at  the  fountain-head. 

Yet,  while  we  hold  it  with  the  hands  of  dying  men, 
let  us  realize  through  it  our  faith  and  hope.  Let  us 
look  back  to  that  first  night,  when  with  desire  He  de- 
sired to  eat  the  Passover  with  his  friends,  and  forward 
to  the  time  when  his  Church  shall  possess  Him  again, 
—  the  same,  and  yet  how  different !  He,  as  human 
in  every  sympathy,  but  manifestly  and  gloriously  Di- 
vine !  she,  risen  from  the  little  company  into  "  the 
general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born  —  the 
New  Jerusalem,  prepared  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her 
husband  !  " 

Blessed  are  they  who  are  called  to  the  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb  !  With  desire  may  we  desire  it,  and 
have  some  foretaste  of  it,  in  souls  that  are  open  to  the 
life  of  that  world  into  which  Christ  is  gone.  And  may 
He,  whose  desire  was  so  set  on  the  first  communion, 


Christ's  desire  for  it.-  387 

deign  to  visit  ours,  and  make  Himself  known  to  us  in 
the  breaking  of  bread,  giving  to  us  the  wedding-gar- 
ment, and  the  wine  of  the  heart,  and  causing  us  to  feel 
that,  even  now,  "  He  can  satisfy  the  longing  soul,  and 
fill  the  hungry  soul  with  goodness." 

Here  we  would  gladly  close  these  thoughts,  and  yet 
we  must  add  one  more.  He  who  had  a  desire  to  them 
that  truly  owned  his  name,  had  a  desire  also  that  went 
out  wider.  Never,  in  our  most  sacred  service,  let  us 
gather  all  our  sympathies  within  the  circle  of  Chris- 
tian fellowship ;  or  forget  that  we  have  a  Saviour 
whose  compassion  looks  on  a  whole  world.  His  call 
is  as  wide  as  the  race ;  his  arms  as  outspread  as  his 
invitation  ;  his  heart  as  large,  and  his  sacrifice  al- 
mighty to  save.  If  there  be  one  thing  to  which  we 
would  cling  with  the  entire  soul's  conviction,  it  is  that 
He  has  thrown  open  the  door  of  forgiving  mercy  to 
any  and  every  sinner  of  the  fallen  family,  and  that  He 
stands  at  the  gateway,  with  the  sincerity  of  unchang- 
ing truth  on  his  lips,  and  the  pity  of  quenchless  love 
in  his  heart,  —  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary 
and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  "  Him 
that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  nowise  cast  out."  Be 
assured  that  the  grief  which  wept  over  Jerusalem  has 
its  tears  for  thee  also ;  and  that  the  heart  which 
yearned  after  the  young  man  who  refused  his  great 
offer,  follows  thee  tenderly,  and  asks  thee  to  turn  and 
live.  With  you  —  every  one  —  He  desires  to  eat  the 
passover.  He  wishes  you  to  acknowledge  your  friend- 
ship openly  and  unreservedly,  but  whether  you  make 
the  avowal  or  not,  He  approaches  you  with  the  invita- 
tion,—  "  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock:  if  any 


388  THE   LAST  PASSOVER. 

man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in 
to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me." 
There  may  be  such  an  answer  of  the  heart  as  shall 
secure  your  share  now  in  the  hidden  manna,  —  and  a 
sense  of  fellowship  with  Him,  outside  this  table, — 
which  He  will  bring  to  view  here  on  earth,  or  hereaf- 
ter in  heaven.  May  He  find  many  welcomes  of  the 
soul  beyond  what  we  openly  express,  and  "  the  Lord 
shall  count  them  all  when  He  writeth  up  the  people." 
Do  but  invite  him  now  from  the  door  of  your  heart  in 
such  words,  and  He  will  at  last  return  your  invitation 
from  the  door  of  his  heaven,  —  "Come  in,  thou 
blessed ;  wherefore  standest  thou  without  ?  "  Amen. 
Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus. 


XXII. 


tutf*  |rauer  for  |is  Jiadj^ 

(AFTER   COMMUNION.) 

■«  /  4rcv  »<>/  tfa*  Thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world,  but 
that  Thou  shouldest  keep  them  from  the  «ff.»-JoHN  xvn.  15. 

HE  prayer  of  our  Lord  in  this  chapter  is  one 
of  the  most  sacred  spots  in  the  Bible.  Here, 
wfpl  if  anywhere,  sublimity  and  tenderness,  — the 
Divinity  and  humanity  of  Christ,  -  shine  out  united 

The  circumstances  make  it  deeply  interesting,  it 
was  offered  up  after  He  had  kept  his  first  communion 
with  his  disciples  ;  and  it  shows  the  wish  of  his  heart 
concerning  those  who  have  joined  in  it,  that  they  may 
be  preserved  from  whatever  would  dishonor  his  name 
or  their  own  profession.  It  was  presented  in  the  near 
prospect  of  his  death  ;  and  it  is  a  solemn  and  touching 
consignment  of  them  into  the  hands  of  his  Ff^a 
they  may  be  guided  and  guarded  through  all  difficult 
and  dangerous  ways,  till  they  meet  Him  again  in  the 
glory  of  the  eternal  life.  He  uttered  it  immediately 
before  He  departed  to  take  his  seat  at  the  right  hand 


390  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

of  God  as  their  intercessor ;  and  it  shows  us  the  spirit 
and  the  model  of  his  mediation  there.  Already  He 
seems  to  have  risen  in  thought  to  the  higher  sanctuary, 
and  his  prayer  has  the  fervor  and  nearness  of  one  who 
looks  upon  the  open  face  of  God.  "  And  now  I  am  no 
more  in  the  world,  but  these  are  in  the  world,  and  I 
come  to  Thee." 

If  there  be  any  thing  that  can  commend  it  to  us  fur- 
ther, it  is  this,  —  that  we  who  have  entered  the  world 
ages  after  the  words  were  spoken  have  still  our  share 
in  them.  "  Neither  pray  I  for  these  alone,  but  for  them 
also  who  shall  believe  in  me  through  their  word  ;  that 
they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I 
in  thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us."  And  so,  if 
we  have  come  to  his  cross  and  table  with  sincere  faith, 
we  have  our  interest  in  his  never-dying  advocacy, 
and  we  abide  all  our  days  under  the  shadow  of  those 
arms  that  were  outstretched  upon  the  cross  to  suffer, 
and  that  are  now  lifted  up  on  the  throne  to  plead 
for  us. 

There  is  a  petition  in  this  prayer  well  adapted  to 
our  present  circumstances,  —  "I  pray  not  that  Thou 
sliouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world,  but  that  Thou 
shouldest  keep  them  from  the  evil ;  "  and  we  shall  seek 
to  show,  first,  What  our  Lord  asks  for  his  followers ; 
and,  second,  Why  He  asks  it. 

I.  What  our  Lord  asks  for  us. 

You  will  observe  that  his  petition  has  two  sides,  — 
a  negative  and  a  positive.  He  tells  what  He  does  not 
ask,  and  what  He  does.  He  does  not  ask  that  God 
"  should  take  us  out  of  the  world."     His  meaning  is 


CHRISi'S   PRAYER    FOR   HIS   DISCIPLES.  391 

not  that  He  presents  such  a  request  absolutely,  for 
before  this  prayer  closes  He  says,  "  Father,  I  will  that 
they  also  whom  Thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where 
I  am."  He  means  only  that  we  should  not  be  taken 
out  of  the  world  immediately.  He  might  have  asked 
that  the  gate  of  faith  should  at  once  become  the  gate 
of  heaven,  and  that  the  prayer,  "  Lord,  remember  me," 
should  be  answered  in  every  case,  "  To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in  paradise."  It  is  our  Lord's  wish,  how- 
ever, that  after  men  become  Christians  they  should 
remain  a  longer  or  shorter  time  in  the  world.  His 
next  desire  is  that  while  in  the  world  they  may  be  kept 
from  the  evil,  —  from  the  great,  the  only  real  evil, — 
sin ;  the  same  prayer  which  He  has  taught  them  to 
present  for  themselves,  "  Deliver  us  from  evil." 

To  be  kept  in  the  world  implies  three  things,  —  to 
be  engaged  in  its  business,  to  suffer  under  its  trials, 
to  be  exposed  to  its  temptations  and  sins.  These  are 
the  things  we  have  to  face  when  we  go  forth  into  the 
world  ;  and  in  quitting  a  communion-table  let  us  try  to 
realize  what  it  is  to  be  kept  from  evil  in  the  midst  of 
them  all. 

1.  To  be  kept  from  evil  in  the  world  means  to  be  en- 
gaged in  the  ivorld's  business,  and  have  it  rightly  directed. 
There  are  some  who  have  thought  that  we  would  be 
more  pure  and  Christian  if  we  were  to  withdraw  from 
the  activity  of  life  to  the  solitude  of  the  cell  or  desert. 
Such  a  withdrawal  must  always  be  impossible  for  the 
mass  of  men,  and  it  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  exam- 
ple of  Christ,  and  to  the  spirit  of  his  gospel.  The 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  mingled  with  men  all  through  his 
own  life,  and  touched  them  in  every  relation  of  theirs. 


392  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

The  world  is  his  world,  and  it  is  open  in  its  entire 
breadth  to  those  who  belong  to  Him.  When  men  were 
converted  by  the  preaching  of  his  apostles,  they  were 
not  required  to  give  up  any  honest  occupation.  If  they 
were  found  idle  they  were  set  to  work,  and  commanded 
"to  be  quiet,  and  mind  their  own  business,"  —  to  be 
"  diligent  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the 
Lord."  If  the  apostles  were  called  from  their  first 
employment,  it  was  not  because  it  was  derogatory  to 
their  character  as  Christians,  but  that  they  might  give 
undivided  labor  in  another  sphere.  The  great  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles  did  not  think  his  office  suffered  when 
he  wrought  at  his  trade  of  tent-maker,  and  —  what 
shall  we  say  ?  —  was  not  labor  consecrated  by  the 
Son  of  God  himself?  It  is  written  not  only,  "  Is  not 
this  the  carpenter's  son  ?  "  but,  "  Is  not  this  the  car- 
penter, the  son  of  Mary?"  He  who  is  our  Divine 
Master  was  in  this  also  among  us  "  as  one  that  serv- 
eth,"  and  put  his  hand  to  the  world's  work  that  He 
might  ennoble  all  true  labor. 

The  gospel,  then,  does  not  withdraw  men  from  the 
world,  with  any  affectation  of  refinement  or  superhu- 
man purity.  It  belongs  to  man,  and  reckons  nothing 
that  is  man's  alien  to  it.  Whatever  is  open  to  men, 
that  is  just  and  right  in  business,  is  open  to  Christians. 
And  they  are  to  give  themselves  to  it,  not  in  any  half- 
hearted way.  They  are  not  to  be  spectators  or  dream- 
ers, but  workers.  Whatever  their  hands  find  to  do, 
they  are  to  do  it  with  their  might.  So  far  the  boasted 
gospel  of  labor  preached  in  our  day  is  only  a  fragment 
broken  from  Christianity.  Christ  preached  it  to  his 
followers,  but  added  this  prayer,  "  that  they  should  be 
kept  from  the  evil." 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  893 

The  gospel  asks  this  of  its  friends,  that  all  their  busi- 
ness should  be  directed  to  a  true  end.  Other  men  may 
turn  their  work  to  ends  that  are  merely  personal. 
They  labor  for  the  meat  that  perishes.  Every  Chris- 
tian, whatever  he  is  doing,  should  be  laboring  for  that 
which  endures  to  everlasting  life.  His  toil  should  not 
have  self  for  its  end,  but  God  and  Christ,  and,  in  them, 
the  good  of  suffering  sinful  humanity.  When  others, 
with  every  fresh  gain,  put  only  the  question,  What 
more  can  I  do  for  myself?  he  is  to  ask,  What  more 
can  I  do  for  Christ  and  his  cause  ?  What  more  for  man  ? 
The  Christian  will  not  have  less  security  for  his  own 
maintenance,  but  all  the  more.  He  will  have  his 
daily  bread  by  his  Lord's  prayer,  but  then  he  works 
for  it,  not  as  an  absolute  owner  of  himself,  or  of  his 
labor,  but  as  a  steward ;  and  all  his  business,  in  the 
dullest  cities  where  he  toils,  has  spires  pointing  God- 
ward  and  heavenward.  Men  may  call  this  ideal  and 
impracticable,  but  it  has  been  largely  realized  by  some, 
—  it  is,  in  a  degree,  by  many,  —  and  it  is  the  only 
thing  that  can  redeem  human  business  from  being 
dreary,  degrading  toil,  and  man  himself  from  feeling 
that  he  is  a  mere  beast  of  burden.  It  will  carry 
comfort  and  dignity  into  every  day  of  our  life,  and 
every  hour  of  the  day,  if  we  bear  this  precept  with  us : 
';  Whether  therefore  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye 
do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God." 

In  addition  to  this  end  of  his  work,  a  Christian  must 
remember  the  manner  in  which  it  should  be  carried  on. 
The  law  of  truth  and  justice  should  regulate  every  part 
of  it.  Some  think  they  can  separate  their  religion 
from  their  business,  but  it  is  the  vain  old  endeavor  to 


39J:  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

serve  God  and  mammon,  —  an  utter  ignorance  of  the 
nature  of  Christianity  which  must  touch  every  thing  in 
life,  if  it  touches  it  at  all.  I  know  it  is  hard,  some  say 
it  is  impossible,  to  carry  out  such  a  principle  in  the 
midst  of  the  complications  and  competitions  of  life. 
But,  if  the  gospel  is  not  to  make  Christians  truthful 
and  upright,  I  do  not  see  any  great  purpose  it  can 
serve  on  this  side  time  or  beyond  it.  And  I  do  not  see 
how  we  can  be  Christians  at  all,  if  we  merely  meet  at 
certain  times,  and  indulge  some  pious  sentiments,  and 
then  go  away  and  live  our  life  without  regard  to  God 
and  his  will.  If  the  world  and  its  business  are  ever  to 
be  put  right,  and  cleared  of  the  frightful  frauds  and 
robberies  that  threaten  the  very  ruin  of  society,  where 
is  the  stand  to  be  made,  if  not  by  those  who  have 
lifted  up  their  hands  to  God  and  said,  —  "  We  are  his 
witnesses  "  ?  Where  should  we  resolve  to  shake  our 
hands  free  from  these  things,  but  at  the  table  of  Him 
who  "  did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth  "  ?  The  appeal  to  Christian  men  is,  "  What  do 
ye  more  than  others  ?  "  What  serves  a  gospel  which 
sets  no  example  to  a  world  that  needs  it,  and  leaves  no 
mark  upon  work  which  is  vain  and  worthless,  or 
worse,  if  it  is  not  regulated  and  sanctified  by  the  will 
of  God  ? 

2.  To  be  kept  in  the  world  and  kept  from  its  evil, 
means,  to  suffer  under  its  trials  and  to  be  preserved  from 
impatience.  If  a  man  would  escape  trial,  he  must 
needs  go  out  of  the  world,  and  when  Christ  prayed 
that  his  disciples  should  be  kept  in  it,  He  knew  that 
they  were  to  suffer  affliction.  "  In  the  world  ye  shall 
have  tribulation."    Moral  distinctions  are  not  observed 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  395 

in  the  providential  allotment  of  calamity.  Famine, 
pestilence,  shipwreck,  and  death  in  every  shape,  light 
upon  those  who  are  God's  servants,  when  they  are 
hastening  on  his  errands.  This  stumbles  many.  But 
only  consider.  If  God  were  to  adopt  another  plan, 
and  exempt  his  friends  from  trial,  He  would  antedate 
the  day  of  judgment.  He  would  take  away  from 
Christians  one  of  the  most  effective  means  of  their 
training,  and  one  of  the  most  striking  ways  in  which 
they  can  prove  their  likeness  to  Christ.  The  righteous 
is  more  excellent  than  his  neighbor,  but  it  is  not  seen 
in  his  being  saved  from  suffering ;  it  is  in  the  way  in 
which  he  meets  it.  A  merely  worldly  spirit  is  ready  in 
severe  affliction  to  fall  into  one  of  two  extremes, — 
either  to  cast  the  trial  aside  in  levity,  and  to  dissipate 
thought  by  some  engrossing  pre-occupation  ;  or  to  sink 
into  despondency,  and  consider  all  as  lost.  The  spirit 
of  the  Christian,  which  is  also  that  of  the  true  man,  is 
described  by  the  apostle :  "  not  to  despise  the  chasten- 
ing of  the  Lord,  nor  to  faint  when  we  are  rebuked  of 
Him." 

A  spirit  of  hopeful  patience  is  that  which  most  of  all 
marks  a  Christian  man  in  trial,  as  of  one  who  knows 
that  there  is  a  purpose  in  God's  providence,  if  he  could 
discover  it,  and  that,  where  he  cannot,  it  will  come  out 
some  day,  filled  with  wisdom  and  kindness.  Few 
things  do  more  to  raise  the  tone  of  our  own  Christian 
life,  and  to  prove  to  men  that  there  is  a  hidden  prop- 
erty in  religion  which  can  turn  the  bitterest  things  in 
this  world  into  sweetness.  If  there  are  some  who  have 
to  exemplify  the  truth  and  justice  of  the  gospel  in  the 
active  business  of  life,  there  may  be  others  appointed 


396  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

to  prove  its  patience  and  calm  fortitude  in  hours  of 
bereavement  and  sickness  and  calamity.  We  may 
learn  this  lesson  also  at  the  table  of  Christ,  and  in  fel- 
lowship with  his  sufferings.  It  is  here  we  are  taught 
the  unmurmuring  acquiescence  in  God's  will,  which 
says,  —  "  The  cup  that  my  heavenly  Father  hath  given 
me  to  drink,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  "  Here  we  may  learn 
to  avoid  being  absorbed  in  self,  when  we  are  suffering, 
and  to  forget  it  in  seeking  to  help  and  comfort  others. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  his  own  heaviest  of  all  sorrows, 
that  Christ  offered  up  this  prayer  for  us,  and  sent  forth 
the  memorial  of  that  death  of  self-sacrifice  which  brings 
to  our  lips  the  cup  of  consolation. 

Here,  too,  we  find  the  strongest  appeal  not  to  turn 
our  own  trials  into  murmurs  against  God,  or  discon- 
tentment with  things  around  us,  or  wrath  against 
those  whom  we  may  blame  as  the  authors  of  our  suffer- 
ing. It  was  at  this  hour  that  He  prayed,  "  Father, 
forgive  them,"  and  included  us  among  the  number. 
What  a  gentle,  soothing  influence  might  not  all  our 
trials  draw  from  such  a  source  ;  how  tender-hearted 
and  forgiving  might  we  not  learn  to  become  through 
the  thought  of  Christ's  forgiveness  ;  and  what  sweetness 
would  not  the  tree  of  the  cross  infuse  into  every  well 
of  Marah  in  our  hearts,  if  we  would  but  strive  more 
earnestly  to  cast  it  in  at  such  a  time  as  this,  when  the 
Lord  is  showing  it  to  us  ! 

8.  To  be  kept  in  the  world,  and  kept  from  its  evil, 
means,  to  be  exposed  to  its  temptations,  and  preserved 
from  falling  into  sin.  As  long  as  we  remain  in  the 
world,  temptation  and  sin  beset  us.  They  are  all 
around  in  objects  of  allurement :  "  the  lust  of  the  eyes, 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples!  897 

the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  pride  of  life."  And  they 
are  within,  in  the  remaining  corruption  of  an  imper- 
fectly renewed  nature.  It  is  Christians  who  are  ad- 
dressed, "  Be  watchful,  be  vigilant.  Take  heed,  lest 
there  be  in  any  of  you  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,  in 
departing  from  the  living  God."  And  the  sad  back- 
slidings  of  many  who  gave  evidence  of  being  followers 
of  Christ  prove  that  the  warnings  are  not  unneeded. 
God  has  not  seen  fit  to  deprive  sinful  things  of  their 
attractiveness,  nor  to  disarm  the  great  enemy  of  his 
fiery  darts,  nor  to  quench  at  once  and  altogether  the 
inflammable  material  in  our  heart.  This  would  be 
fighting  the  battle  and  gaming  the  victory  without  us, 
and  there  could  then  be  no  perfected  purity,  no  estab- 
lished character,  no  conqueror's  crown.  Therefore 
God  sends  forth  his  children  into  the  battle  to  face  all 
these  enemies,  and  Christ  makes  no  request  that  they 
may  be  spared  —  only  that  they  should  be  kept  from 
the  evil. 

This  should  mark  a  Christian  man  in  the  world,  that 
he  should  have  a  deeper  view  of  what  is  to  be  aimed  at 
in  character,  of  what  is  meant  by  being  kept  from  evil. 
It  is  not  to  be  preserved  from  misfortune,  or  sickness, 
or  reproach,  or  bereavement,  but  from  sin.  While 
others  may  fix  their  view  on  the  streams,  and  seek  to 
filter  a  portion  of  the  current  here  and  there,  we  must 
begin  at  the  fountain-head,  and  press  this  prayer,  "  Cre- 
ate in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God."  Other  men  may  have 
their  own  motives  for  avoiding  wrong-doing  —  regard 
to  character,  or  health,  or  advantage.  We  must  strive 
to  reach  reasons  higher  and  more  powerful,  —  "How 
can   I   do  this  wickedness,  and  sin   against  God  ? " 


398  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

"  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us  to  live  not  unto 
ourselves,  but  to  Him  who  died  for  us." 

At  a  communion-table  these  motives  should  be  felt 
in  their  power.  "  He  who  knew  no  sin,  was  made  sin 
for  us,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of 
God  in  Him."  If  this  means,  first,  that  we  might  be 
covered  with  his  perfect  atonement,  and  accepted  in 
the  Beloved,  it  means  also  that  this  should  lead  to  our 
being  filled  with  his  Spirit,  and  that  we  should  seek 
to  purify  ourselves,  as  He  is  pure.  To  make  the  death 
of  Christ  a  mere  refuge-house  for  pardons  is  to  degrade 
it  to  the  most  selfish  end,  and  to  receive  the  grace  of 
God  in  vain.  The  Lord  whom  we  acknowledge  laid 
clown  his  life  to  blot  out  all  the  sinful  past ;  but  He 
rose  again  that,  in  his  Spirit  of  purity  and  love, 
He  might  be  our  leader  in  the  war  with  sin  in  every 
form  and  degree.  He  consecrates  us  as  his  soldiers, 
—  clothes  us  with  the  whole  armor  of  God,  —  and 
sends  us  out  to  do  battle  with  evil,  first  of  all  in  the 
heart  which  is  its  stronghold.  If  the  death  and  life  of 
Christ  are  to  have  any  practical  meaning  in  our  daily 
walk,  it  must  be  this  —  the  death  of  the  false  and  im- 
pure in  us,  and  the  springing  up  of  a  new  and  Divine 
life  in  their  room. 

Principle  in  the  business  of  the  world,  and  patience 
under  its  trials,  thus  rise  up  into  the  view  of  an  end 
still  nobler,  —  the  putting  on  the  likeness  of  Christ, 
who  is  the  image  of  Him  who  is  invisible,  —  the  cloth- 
ing of  the  soul  in  that  purity  which  is  the  garment  of 
the  Father  of  lights,  and  which  bestows  on  those  who 
possess  it  the  power  of  seeing  God.  It  is  true  that 
the  best  of  us  aim  only  feebly  and  far  off  at  such  an 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  309 

end  as  this ;  but  even  to  feel  that  it  is  a  worthy  end, 
and  to  aim  at  it  in  any  way,  is  to  have  the  earnest 
already  of  an  eternal  life  begun.  Let  us  stir  ourselves 
up  to  lay  hold  of  this  afresh.  To  some  men  it  is  unin- 
telligible, and  even  to  Christians  there  are  seasons 
when',  surrounded  by  the  world's  business  and  pleas- 
ure, it  seems  dream-like  and  unnatural.  But  all  the 
deepest  longings  of  man's  soul,  and  all  his  truest 
thoughts  about  God,  bear  him  to  it.  It  is  the  essence 
of  the  Bible,  and  the  object  of  the  entrance  of  the  Son 
of  God  into  our  world.  It  is  the  inmost  heart  of  his 
prayer  for  us,  and  it  is  the  sober  reality  which  comes 
before  us  at  every  communion-table.  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live ;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ 
liveth  in  me  ;  and  the  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh, 
I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  me, 
and  gave  Himself  for  me." 

II.  We  come  now  to  give  some  reasons  why  our 
Lord  asks  for  his  friends  that  they  should  not 
be  taken  out  of  the  world. 

He  asks  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  world.  If  Christ 
were  to  remove  men  to  his  immediate  presence  so 
soon  as  they  become  his  followers,  He  would  be  taking 
away  from  the  world  those  who  were  meant  to  be  its 
greatest  blessings.  True  Christians  are  the  salt  of  the 
earth.  Distributed  over  its  surface,  they  help  to  pre- 
serve it  from  the  utter  corruption  to  which  it  would 
otherwise  sink.  They  are  more,  —  they  are  its  light. 
If  ever  the  world  is  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  God, 
it  must  be  through  their  instrumentality.  If  they  were 
removed  there  would  be  no  church  on  earth  to  witness 


400  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

for  God.  It  would  be  the  darkness  of  Egypt  without 
light  in  any  dwelling,  the  corruption  of  Sodom  without 
a  Lot  to  be  grieved  for  it ;  and  if  the  earth  were  still 
preserved,  it  would  only  be  for  the  sake  of  those  who, 
in  time  coming,  might  be  drawn  from  it  to  God.  This 
world  would  then  be  a  quarry  from  which  stones  were 
taken,  as  from  heathen  Tyre,  and  transported,  so  soon 
as  cut,  to  form  the  house  of  God  in  another  land.  But 
it  would  not  be  a  site  on  which  a  temple  shall  rise 
to  God's  glory,  growing  from  age  to  age,  until  it  fill 
the  extent  of  the  wide  earth,  and  have  the  "  headstone 
brought  forth  with  shoutings,  Grace,  grace  unto  it ! " 
But  this  is  God's  purpose,  —  to  make  that  earth  which 
has  witnessed  the  sufferings  and  death  of  his  Son, 
illustrious  also  as  the  scene  of  his  final  triumph.  The 
victory  is  complete  when  the  Conqueror  remains  in 
undisputed  possession  of  the  field. 

He  asks  it  for  the  honor  of  his  own  name.  There 
is  glory  that  accrues  to  the  name  of  Christ,  and  there 
is  joy  among  the  angels  when  a  sinner  drops  the 
weapons  of  rebellion,  and  becomes,  through  Him,  the 
child  of  God.  There  is  glory  also  that  comes  to  Him, 
when  his  redeemed  are  brought  home,  and  when, 
arrayed  in  the  beauties  of  holiness,  they  cast  their 
crowns  before  the  throne  with  the  ascription,  "  Worthy 
is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  !  "  But  it  is  for  his  honor 
also  that  there  should  be  an  interval  between,  —  a 
pathway  of  struggle,  where  the  power  of  his  grace  may 
be  seen  in  preserving  his  friends  in  every  extremity. 
The  more  threatening  the  rocks  and  eddies,  the  fiercer 
the  winds  and  waves,  so  much  the  more  honor  to  Him, 
who  sometimes  asleep  in  the  ship  (as  men  deem  it), 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  401 

sometimes  absent,  can  keep  it  from  wreck,  and  carry 
it  in  safety  to  the  desired  haven.  What  an  emphatic 
challenge  there  is  to  every  enemy  in  his  own  words, 
"  I  give  unto  my  sheep  eternal  life,  and  they  shall  never 
perish,  neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  my  hand  "  ! 
We  see  their  emblem  there,  —  a  feeble  wandered  lamb 
in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness  waste  and  howling, 
and  around  it  the  ravening  wolf  and  roaring  lion,  the 
treacherous  pitfall  and  poisonous  wind.  But  when  his 
hand  has  fed  and  tended,  and  guarded  and  guided 
it  on  to  the  green  pastures  and  still  waters  of  the 
heavenly  land",  the  lengthened  hazards  of  the  way 
shall  commend  the  power  and  kindness  of  the  Great 
Shepherd  more  than  if  He  had  snatched  it  at  once 
from  the  midst  of  peril,  and  set  it  in  the  bosom  of 
perpetual  peace.  It  was  a  glorious  thing  for  the  Head 
himself  to  enter  the  lists  of  battle,  and  after  a  conflict 
that  bent  Him  to  the  depth  of  agony,  to  depart  a  victor, 
triumphing  through  endurance  to  the  death.  But  it 
multiplies  his  triumph,  or,  we  should  rather  say,  it 
brings  out  in  its  true  and  manifold  form  all  that  was 
hidden  in  it,  when  we  see  it  repeated  in  the  victory  of 
the  meanest  and  weakest  of  his  followers.  It  is  like 
the  sun  reflecting  his  image  from  every  dew-drop, 
folding  out  his  treasures  in  the  green  of  leaves  and 
colors  of  all  the  flowers,  and  flashing  his  light  along 
the  beaded  moisture  of  gossamer  threads,  —  for  we 
believe  that  not  a  blessing  or  a  comfort,  not  a  grace  or 
virtue,  rises  out  of  the  night  of  our  sin  and  suffering,  — 
not  the  slightest  filament  of  feeling  sparkles  into  hope, 
—  but  it  will  be  found  that  it  owes  its  source  to  the 


26 


402  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

fountain  of  light  and  life  which  God  has  opened  for 
his  world  in  Jesus  Christ. 

The  last  reason  for  this  petition  of  our  Lord  is,  for 
the  good  of  Christians  themselves.  "  Master,  it  is  good 
for  us  to  be  here,"  Peter  said,  when  a  ray  of  heaven's 
light;  shone  upon  him  on  the  Holy  Mount,  "  let  us 
build  here  three  tabernacles."  As  if  he  had  said, 
"  Why  go  down  again  into  the  dark  world  of  opposition 
and  trial,  when  we  can  enjoy  here  at  once  the  heavenly 
vision?  "  But  "  he  wist  not  what  he  said,"  and  he  was 
compelled  to  descend,  and  travel  many  a  weary  foot- 
step, before  he  reached  that  higher  mount  where  he 
now  stands  with  his  Lord  in  glory.  We,  too,  may 
sometimes  feel  that  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  be 
carried  past  these  temptations  and  struggles,  and  to 
enter  at  once  into  rest.  There  are  times  when  that 
rest  seems  so  much  to  be  desired,  and  this  world  so 
little,  that  our  soul,  like  that  of  the  ancient  Israelites, 
"  is  much  discouraged  because  of  the  way."  But  He 
who  undertakes  for  us  knows  what  is  best,  and  as  it 
was  expedient  for  us  that  He  should  depart,  so  must 
it  also  be  that  we  should  for  a  season  remain  behind. 

Not  that  this  is  indispensable  for  our  sanctification, 
as  some  say ;  for  the  Saviour  who  could  carry  the 
dying  thief  at  once  to  paradise,  could  do  the  same  for 
all  of  us,  and  the  advance  which  the  best  of  Christians 
make  in  this  world  is  so  small,  compared  with  the 
mighty  transformation  needed  at  death,  that  it  cannot 
enter  much  into  the  account.  The  reason  seems  rather 
to  be  that  there  are  lessons  which  we  have  to  learn  on 
this  earth  which  can  be  taught  us  in  no  other  part  of 
our  history. 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  403 

One  of  these  is  the  evil  of  sin.  And,  therefore,  we 
are  detained  in  a  world  where  its  effects  are  so  terrible*, 
where  we  have  to  struggle  with  its  consequences  in 
our  personal  life,  and  its  temptations  in  our  soul. 
The  angels  of  God  may  learn  to  hate  sin  when  they 
have  seen  it  lay  waste  a  fair  world,  over  whose  birth 
they  sang  together  with  the  morning  stars.  The  infant 
that  has  tasted  the  cup  of  life,  and  turned  away  its  lips 
from  the  draught,  may  learn  to  hate  it  still  more,  for 
it  has  felt,  at  least,  one  of  its  fruits.  But  most  of  all 
must  he  loathe  it  who  has  wrestled  with  it  in  mortal 
agony  till  he  lias  cried  out,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I 
am!  who  shall  deliver  me?"  —  and,  above  all  others, 
his  song  shall  rise  triumphant,  "  I  thank  God,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  There  must  be  some  who 
pass  through  this  experience,  to  give  the  key-note  of  it 
to  all  God's  holy  universe. 

Another  part  of  God's  desire  may  be  that  we  should 
enjoy  more  fully  the  blessedness  of  heaven.  Our  bitter 
bereavements  will  intensify  the  joy  of  its  meetings ; 
its  rest  will  be  sweeter  for  the  hard  toil ;  and  its  per- 
fect light  and  purity  fill  the  soul  with  a  far  more 
exceeding  glory  for  the  doubts  and  temptations  which 
oppress  us  here.  How  gladly  shall  the  weary  dove  of 
hope,  which  flutters  in  every  human  breast,  alight  at 
last  on  the  eternal  ark  of  God's  safety,  when  it  has 
found  no  resting-place  for  the  sole  of  its  foot  over  all 
the  wide  world,  and  how  joyfully  shall  it  feel  the  hand 
of  the  great  Deliverer  outstretched  to  take  it  in,  when 
it  comes,  weary  and  worn  with  the  stormy  wind  and 
swelling  billow  !  Many  a  painful  footstep  the  pilgrim 
must  tread  before  he  reaches  the  Father's  house  which 


404  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

shines  forth  its  welcome  above,  but  this  promise  may 
cheer  him,  "  There  remaineth  a  rest  to  the  people  of 
God,"  and  when  it  is  attained  the  pain  and  peril  of  the 
way  shall  enhance  the  peace  and  safety  of  the  eternal 
home.  The  path  itself  shall  be  seen  to  be  a  right 
way  ;  the  deepest  valleys  of  death  shall  be  lighted  up  ; 
and  with  Him,  who  rose  from  the  lowest  depth  of 
suffering  to  be  the  centre  of  heaven's  joy,  thou  shalt 
say,  "  I  waited  patiently  for  the  Lord,  and  He  inclined 
unto  me,  and  heard  my  cry.  He  brought  me  up  also 
out  of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of  the  miry  clay,  and  set  my 
feet  upon  a  rock,  and  established  my  goings.  And  he 
hath  put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto 
our  God." 

And  now  when  we  pass  from  the  communion  of 
Christ's  house  into  the  active  world,  let  this  petition 
of  his  point  out  our  duty.  What  He  asked  for  us  we 
must  aim  at.  He  did  not  request  wealth  or  fame  or 
comfort.  He  chose  them  not  for  Himself,  and  He  did 
not  reckon  them  so  needful  for  us  as  to  put  them  into 
his  parting  prayer.  On  one  thing  his  heart  was  set, 
—  that  we  should  be  "  kept  from  the  world's  evil." 
Let  us  fear  nothing  so  much  as  sin  ;  and  feel  that  our 
life  can  aim  at  a  true  and  noble  end,  only  when  it 
breathes  the  air  of  this  prayer  of  Christ. 

And  in  this  aim  his  prayer  will  make  us  feel  our 
security.  The  life  of  a  Christian  man  is  in  no  com- 
mon keeping.  It  is  suspended  on  the  intercession  of 
Christ  —  upon  the  will  of  the  Highest  in  the  universe 
when  He  is  engaged  in  his  holiest  act  —  when  He  is 
pleading  before  the  throne  of  God.  We  continue  in 
this  world  while  He  asks  that  we  should  remain,  and 


Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples.  405 

we  cannot  die  till  He  lifts  his  hand  and  ntters  his 
"  Father,  I  will  that  they  be  with  me  where  I  am, 
that  they  may  behold  my  glory"  (John  xvii.  24). 
"  Whether  we  live,  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the 
Lord's."  How  strong  may  we  not  feel  in  all  our  con- 
flicts on  the  plain,  while  such  a  Prophet  is  praying  for 
us  on  the  mount !  how  comforted  in  all  our  sorrows, 
when  such  refreshments  are  ready  to  be  wafted  down 
from  the  overshadowing  wings  of  the  mercy-seat ! 
"  Thou  shalt  not  be  afraid  for  the  terror  by  night ;  nor 
for  the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day  —  He  shall  cover  thee 
with  his  feathers,  and  under  his  wings  shalt  thou 
trust."  "  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than 
conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us." 

Are  there  hearts  and  lives  that  have  not  been  sur- 
rendered into  this  keeping,  —  that  are  being  wasted  on 
vanity  or  ruined  in  sin  ?  Your  body's  life  cannot  exist 
against  the  laws  of  his  natural  world.  If  it  enters 
into  conflict  with  them  it  must  perish.  Can  your 
soul's  life  prosper  in  defiance  of  the  laws  of  his  very 
nature,  and  of  the  prayers  of  the  Son  of  God  ?  When 
He  pleads  against  sin,  and  in  behalf  of  truth  and 
righteousness,  where  can  your  hope  be  for  safety  ?  It 
is  a  terrible  thing  to  have  arrayed  against  us  the 
requests  of  Him  whom  the  Father  heareth  always  — 
to  know  that  the  triumph  of  the  petition  for  right 
insures  our  doom.  There  is  one  resource  —  an  open 
and  a  plain  one.  He  is  willing,  most  willing,  to  take 
your  soul  and  life  into  his  keeping,  and  to  write  your 
name  upon  his  priestly  breastplate.  He  is  willing  to 
do  it  at  once  "  with  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer."  He 
does  not  decline  to  pray  for  you  till  your  life  has  given 


406  Christ's  prayer  for  his  disciples. 

you  some  title  to  hope  for  it,  but  whatever  your  life 
may  have  been,  if  it  is  only  surrendered  now  in  con- 
trite submission  to  his  will,  his  prayer  ascends  already 
for  you,  to  raise  its  feeble  spark  into  a  flame.  It  was 
for  this  He  died,  for  this  that  He  lives,  and  if  there  be 
any  meaning  in  the  intercession  of  Christ,  it  is  that  the 
humblest  look  upward  to  the  pure  and  true,  —  the 
feeblest  cry  for  aid  in  the  battle  against  sin,  —  finds  a 
face  to  represent  it,  and  a  voice  to  speak  for  it  before 
the  throne  of  God.  Only  let  your  look  and  cry  be  true, 
however  weak,  and  you  can  claim  all  the  aid  that  the 
prayer  of  Christ  insures,  and  rejoice  in  the  thought 
that  such  aid  is  almighty.  "  Now  know  I  that  the 
Lord  saveth  his  anointed ;  he  will  hear  him  from  his 
holy  heaven  with  the  saving  strength  of  his  right  hand. 
Save,  Lord ;  let  the  King  hear  us  when  we  call." 


XXIII. 


mt  and  jjautnct 


"  It  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the 
salvation  of  the  Lord."  —  Lament,  iii.  26. 

HERB  are  few  parts  of  the  Bible  where,  in  so 
short  a  compass  as  this  chapter,  there  is  shown 
snch  a  bitterness  of  sorrow  and  such  a  strength 
of  consolation.  The  grief  and  comfort  pursue  each 
other,  like  the  shadows  and  sunshine  of  a  day  in  spring. 
A  mighty  wave  breaks  over  the  man's  head,  and  all 
seems  lost,  but  we  see  him  again  standing  on  firm 
ground,  and  his  voice  comes  out,  not  in  cries  for  help, 
but  in  expressions  of  confidence.  He  is  afflicted  in 
body  and  depressed  in  soul,  assailed  by  enemies,  and 
grieved  by  the  state  of  God's  cause,  but  one  thing  con- 
stantly re-appears  to  sustain  him  —  the  view  of  God 
himself.  And  if  the  sky  overhead  will  clear  in  this 
way,  though  at  intervals,  we  can  hold  on  when  all  the 
earth  is  wrapped  in  gloom.  It  is  from  heaven,  and 
not  from  earth,  that  a  believing  man  expects  the  out- 
come of  the  sun.     You  find,  therefore,  that  his  eye 


408  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

looks  upward ;  and,  when  it  cannot  see  God,  it  seeks 
the  place  where  He  is  hidden,  as  a  flower  bends  its 
head  toward  the  cloud  which  veils  the  light. 

God  and  his  salvation  are  the  object  of  his  desire. 
Gladly  would  he  possess  them,  but,  if  he  cannot,  he 
will  make  them  the  object  of  his  hope,  and,  if  hope  fails, 
he  will  quietly  wait.  There  is  no  case  so  desperate, — 
no  weary  disappointment  so  prolonged,  —  in  which 
there  does  not  remain  some  duty  towards  God.  This 
is  what  we  have  to  consider.  In  the  24th  verse  this 
sufferer  speaks  of  his  hope  in  God :  "  The  Lord  is  my 
portion,  saith  my  soul,  therefore  will  I  hope  in  Him." 
In  the  25th  verse  he  speaks  of  "  waiting  for  God." 
u  The  Lord  is  good  unto  them  that  waft  for  Him,  to  the 
soul  that  seeketh  Him."  And  here,  in  the  26th  verse, 
he  combines  the  two.  "  It  is  good  that  a  man  should 
both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord." 

We  shall,  first,  consider  what  is  meant  by  the  "  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord  ;  "  next,  the  separate  exercises  of  the 
soul  toward  it ;  and  lastly,  the  benefit  of  conjoining 
these  —  "  both  to  hope  and  quietly  to  wait." 

I.  The  first  thing  is  to  understand  what  is  meant 
by  the  "  salvation  of  the  Lord." 

Now,  God's  salvation  is  used  very  frequently  in  the 
Bible  for  his  interposition  to  save  the  soul  of  man  from 
sin — that  great  salvation  which  is  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  the  Bible  ;  and  a  man  becomes  possessed  of 
it  when,  in  humble  trust,  he  commits  his  soul  to  God's 
mercy,  as  it  is  made  known.  We  do  not  think,  how- 
ever, that  it  is  this  salvation  which  is  here  spoken  of, 


HOPE   AND   PATIENCE.  409 

for  though  a  man  may  be  encouraged  "  to  hope,"  he 
cannot  be  urged  "  quietly  to  wait  for  it."  He  is  to 
strive  —  to  ask  and  seek  and  knock  until  he  finds  ;  but 
there  is  not  a  spot  in  the  search  after  God  where  he  is 
entitled  to  sit  down  and  rest.  If  we  look,  moreover, 
into  the  language  of  the  chapter  we  shall  see  that  it  is 
not  that  of  a  man  who  is  ignorant  of  God.  He  is  ac- 
quainted with  his  gracious  character,  and  has  learned 
to  rely  on  it. 

The  "  salvation  of  the  Lord  "  here  is  something  else 
than  the  first  view  which  a  sinful  man  obtains  of  par- 
don and  peace,  through  "  the  great  God  our  Saviour." 
It  is  the  salvation  which  a  man  needs  in  any  crisis  of 
life,  where  he  suffers  under  trial  or  is  threatened  with 
it.  And,  in  these  trials,  hope  and  quiet  waiting  do  not 
come  at  once  into  their  fullest  exercise.  As  long  as 
human  means  can  avail,  it  is  a  man's  duty,  trusting  to 
Divine  help,  to  employ  them.  To  sit  and  wait,  where 
effort  can  avail,  is  to  insult  God's  providence.  The 
"  salvation  of  the  Lord  "  is  when  all  conceivable  means 
have  been  employed,  and  have  failed.  The  hand  can 
do,  the  heart  can  devise,  nothing  more.  When  the 
Israelites  had  reached  the  Red  Sea  with  the  moun- 
tains on  either  side  and  the  Egyptians  behind,  the 
words  of  Moses  were,  "  Stand  still,  and  seetJie  salvation 
of  God." 

Such  positions  are  frequently  arrived  at  in  life.  We 
feel  that  we  are  at  the  end  of  all  endeavor,  and  the 
object  has  not  been  gained.  Our  strength  and  resour- 
ces,—  all  possible  expedients,  —  have  been  brought 
into  exercise.  The  last  reserve  has  been  thrown  into 
the  battle,  and  yet  it  goes  against  us.     We  may  strug- 


410  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

gle  on  with  a  blind  despair,  and,  as  long  as  strength 
remains,  we  must  struggle  on  ;  but  this  power,  too, 
seems  to  be  failing.  It  is  then  that  the  case  rises  dis- 
tinctly into  "  the  salvation  of  the  Lord:'  Nothing  can 
save  us  but  his  marked  interposition,  and  the  heart 
must  put  itself  in  the  attitude  of  "hope  and  quiet 
waiting  "  for  it. 

The  trials  of  this  kind  are  innumerable,  as  varied  as 
the  lives  of  men,  and  when  we  instance  one  or  two,  we 
know  that  we  touch  only  the  surface  of  human  experi- 
ence. 

There  may  be  some  who  are  using  every  endeavor 
to  secure  subsistence  and  an  honorable  position  for 
themselves  and  those  dependent  on  them ;  and  yet  all 
their  efforts  are  unsuccessful.  Slowly  the  tide  of  com- 
fort, and  even  of  the  means  of  existence,  is  ebbing; 
and  the  dark  reefs,  which  threaten  utter  shipwreck,  lift 
their  head.  If  some  change  does  not  quickly  come  they 
feel  that  temporal  ruin  is  on  them.  It  is  a  time  not  to 
relax  effort,  but  to  look  out  more  intently  for  deliver- 
ance from  God,  and  to  have  the  heart  resting  on  it. 

Or  there  may  be  some  one  who  has  the  presence  of 
a  constant  difficulty  in  the  spiritual  life  —  perhaps  the 
want  of  that  sense  of  religious  comfort  which  is  felt  to 
be  so  desirable,  or  the  obtrusion  of  some  painful  doubt 
about  doctrine  or  duty,  through  which  no  present  light 
can  be  seen.  To  cast  the  thing  aside  and  become 
indifferent  to  it,  would  be  against  the  promptings  of 
the  whole  spiritual  nature  ;  and  yet  to  reconcile  it  with 
other  convictions  is  meanwhile  impossible.  There  are 
many  such  cases  of  painful  want  of  harmony  in  our 
time.     A  period  occurs  in  every  genuine  life  when  the 


HOPE    AND    PATIENCE.  411 

simple  faith  of  childhood  has  to  pass  over  into  the  intel- 
ligent faith  of  manhood,  and  such  periods  occur  also 
in  the  history  of  the  world.  Many  things  then  seem 
shaken  when  they  are  only  about  to  be  established  on 
new  and  higher  ground.  If  there  are  some  who  are 
involved  in  such  a  struggle,  and  if  all  thought  has  failed 
to  open  a  path  through  it,  it  is  a  time  also  for  this 
more  entire  reliance  upon  God.  No  exertion  to  reach 
light  is  to  be  neglected,  but  there  may  be  a  more 
implicit  confidence  in  Him  who  is  the  Father  of  lights, 
—  holding  steadfastly  to  what  is  felt  to  be  true,  and 
waiting  for  illumination  on  what  is  doubtful  — "  cast- 
ing out  the  anchor  and  wishing  for  the  day." 

Perhaps  there  are  some  who  are  deeply  interested  in 
the  spiritual  welfare  of  a  soul  dear  to  them  as  their 
own.  Their  prayer  has  been  rising,  like  that  of  Abra- 
ham for  Ishmael,  "  0  that  he  might  live  before  God !  " 
But  all  means  have  appeared  to  fail.  If  there  is  not 
positive  disregard  of  religion,  there  is,  at  least,  want 
of  that  thorough  decision  which  is  so  longed  for  by 
those  who  know  the  full  value  of  God's  friendship,  and 
who  yearn  to  see  all  that  their  heart  loves  most  included 
in  it.  There  is  a  certain  length  we  can  go  in  such 
endeavors,  and  we  feel  that  to  go  further  might  injure 
the  end  we  seek.  Then  this  remains  to  us  —  to  take 
all  our  endeavor,  and  leave  it  with  God,  in  whose  hand 
are  the  hearts  of  all  men,  who  can  follow  the  wanderer 
wherever  his  feet  or  his  thoughts  may  carry  him,  and 
can  bring  him  again  to  himself,  and  to  his  Father's 
house. 

Or,  it  may  be,  there  is  some  life  which  has  lost  all 
the  relish  it  once  possessed,  —  where  wasting  sickness 


412  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

has  undermined  the  strength,  —  or  friends  who  were 
the  hue  and  perfume  of  it  have  been  taken  away,  —  or 
hopes  that  hung  on  its  horizon  like  a  coming  glory  have 
melted  into  thin  air,  —  and  existence  seems  to  have  no 
more  an  object,  and  duty  sinks  into  a  dull  mechanical 
round,  and  the  night  comes  down  dark  and  starless, 
and  the  morning  rises  cold  and  colorless.  It  is  hard 
to  say  what  can  restore  to  such  a  life  its  vigor  and 
freshness,  for  the  mind  comes  oftentimes  to  have  a 
morbid  love  of  the  gloom  which  is  its  misery,  and  to 
reckon  it  treason  to  its  past  hopes  to  turn  its  eye  from 
their  sepulchre.  God  only  knows  the  remedy,  and  it 
is  a  special  time  to  call  up  higher  duty  to  our  aid  — 
the  duty  of  turning  to  Him,  and  striving  to  feel  that 
He  has  it  in  His  power,  though  we  may  not  see  how,  to 
save  us  over  the  grave  of  our  most  cherished  hopes, 
without  causing  us  to  forget  them,  and  to  shine  in  with 
a  reviving  light  upon  the  dullest  and  bleakest  of  earthly 
walks. 

There  is,  probably,  not  one  of  us  but  has  some  such 
trial  as  these,  —  some  object  on  which  our  heart  has 
been  set,  not  yet  attained,  or  taken  away  from  us 
beyond  the  prospect  of  recovery.  We  stand  at  the  end 
of  all  our  exertion,  and  our  desire  is  far  out  of  our 
reach.  A  man  who  has  faith  only  in  worldly  resources 
is  powerless  here.  He  must  give  up  in  despair,  or  cast 
himself  on  a  blind  chance.  But,  for  a  believing  man, 
there  is  still  a  duty  and  a  stay.  When  he  cannot  take 
a  step  farther  in  human  effort,  there  is  a  pathway  tc 
the  sky,  and  his  heart  can  travel  it.  There  is  a  salva- 
tion of  the  Lord  which  lies  beyond  and  above  every 
deliverance  in  the  power,  or  even  the  conception  of 


HOPE    AND   PATIENCE.  413 

man,  "  Hast  thou  not  known,  hast  thou  not  heard,  that 
the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the  Creator  of  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary  ?  There  is 
no  searching  of  His  understanding."  Then  comes  the 
time  to  realize  this  —  that  if  the  object  of  our  desire 
be  right  and  good,  He  can  give  it  to  us  in  a  way  we 
dream  not  of,  and  that,  if  it  be  denied,  it  is  because 
there  is  something  better  in  store,  "  above  what  we  can 
ask  or  think."  Some  hidden  treasure  of  the  soul  is  to 
be  opened  up,  or  some  future  gain  of  the  immortal  life 
is  being  prepared  by  this  delay.  The  blessing  we  long 
for  can  come  in  this  world,  sudden  and  wonderful, 
written  all  over  with  the  manifest  tokens  of  God's 
hand ;  or,  if  it  may  never  be  ours  here,  it  carries  the 
standard  of  hope  beyond  the  gulf  to  plant  it  on  the 
shores  of  the  eternal.  We  may  quietly  wait  with 
the  assurance  that  every  blessing  will  be  found  com- 
plete when  those  who  trust  in  Him  are  saved  in  the 
Lord,  with  an  everlasting  salvation. 

II.  The  second  thing  is  to  consider  what  is  meant 
by  these  exercises  of  the  soul  towards  God's  salvation, 
—  "  to  7iope,  and  quietly  to  ivaitP 

Every  one  of  us  knows,  without  any  labored  defini- 
tion, what  it  is  to  hope.  But  if  we  are  to  set  ourselves 
to  practise  it  in  a  Christian  way,  it  may  be  useful  to 
look  at  some  of  its  elements. 

The  foundation  of  hope  may  be  said  to  lie  in  desire. 
It  differs  from  desire  in  this,  that  desire  pursues  many 
things  that  can  never  be  objects  of  hope  to  us.  We 
can  only  hope  for  such  desires  as  are  possible  and 
reasonable.     This  then  is  the  first  thing  for  us  to  do, 


414  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

if  we  would  strengthen  hope,  to  see  that  its  objects  are 
right  and  good,  —  that  is,  accordant  with  the  Divine 
will,  and  beneficial  for  us.  We  may  learn  this  by  con- 
sulting God's  Word,  and  our  own  thoughtful  experi- 
ence. We  are  sure  never  to  err  when  we  begin  with 
the  blessings  that  concern  our  spiritual  and  immortal 
nature.  We  may  wish,  without  fear  and  without  limit, 
for  whatever  brings  us  nearer  to  God's  friendship  and 
fellowship  —  for  whatever  forms  in  us  the  mind  and 
likeness  of  Christ.  After  this  we  are  perfectly  free  to 
desire  those  things  which  meet  the  wants  of  our  entire 
nature,  as  far  as  these  are  sinless.  That  nature  is  of 
God's  making,  and  all  its  necessities  and  affections 
have  true  and  proper  objects.  But,  on  this  human 
side,  we  should  never  wish  with  the  same  absolute 
strength,  for  we  live  in  a  world  where  the  lower  comes 
often  into  conflict  with  the  higher  ;  and  we  should  seek 
to  desire  things  in  their  due  proportion  —  first,  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness,  and  then  all 
the  other  things  that  may  be  fitly  added  to  it.  If  we 
have  been  taught  thus  to  govern  our  desires,  we  have 
laid  the  foundation  of  well-grounded  hope. 

The  next  element  in  Christian  hope  is  faith.  Hope 
differs  from  faith  in  this,  that  we  believe  in  many 
things  in  regard  to  which  we  do  not  hope.  Hope  is 
faith  with  desire  pointing  out  the  objects.  If  we  have 
sought  to  make  these  desires  Christian  and  reason- 
able, then  we  may  consistently  call  in  the  aid  of  faith. 
"  The  Lord  shall  give  that  which  is  good."  We  have 
the  assurance  in  the  knowledge  of  Him,  as  the  "  Father 
of  spirits,"  that  He  will  care  for  the  souls  He  has  made. 
If  we  give  up  to  His  keeping  that  precious  and  immor- 


HOPE    AND    PATIENCE.  415 

tal  part  of  our  nature,  we  may  have  the  most  perfect 
conviction  that  He  will  satisfy  all  the  longings  He  has 
infused  into  it,  and  will  fill  it  with  all  the  happiness  of 
which  it  is  capable.  And  as  He  is  the  "  God  of  the 
spirits  of  all  flesh,"  — of  spirits  which  dwell  in  fleshly 
tabernacles,  —  and  which  are  open,  therefore,  to  joys 
and  sorrows  dependent  on  them,  we  may  be  sure  that 
He  will  not  overlook  this  part  of  our  nature.  Only 
His  care  of  it  will  be  proportioned  to  that  same  impor- 
tance which  we  have  been  taught  to  observe  in  our 
desires.  So  we  may  reason  from  the  general  spirit  of 
the  Bible  ;  and  when  we  go  to  its  particular  promises, 
we  find  them  every  one  bearing  out  this  view.  They 
tell  us  that  the  spiritual,  as  it  is  to  be  unfolded  and 
perfected  in  the  eternal,  is  the  great  concernment  of 
God's  dealings  with  us  ;  but  that,  in  subordination  to 
this,  all  that  belongs  to  our  happiness  is  the  object  of 
His  care,  and  may  be  the  subject  of  our  hope.  The 
greater  end  does  not  finally  exclude  the  less ;  it  only 
modifies  and  regulates  it;  and  makes  it,  in  its  last 
issue,  more  certain  and  complete.  The  hope  of  the 
Bible  is,  first  of  all,  divine,  like  its  great  subject,  but 
it  is  also,  like  Him,  truly  and  tenderly  human.  For  a 
time  they  are  in  outward  conflict,  the  human  crying 
out  in  suffering  and  struggle,  but,  all  the  while,  sus- 
tained by  the  divine,  and  destined  at  last  to  enter  into 
a  visible  and  glorious  harmony  with  it. 

When  we  have  sought  to  purify  our  desires  and  to 
make  them  the  subject  of  faith,  as  far  as  they  are  right 
and  good,  there  is  still  a  third  element  to  be  added  to 
make  our  hope  strong  —  that  of  imagination.  I  know 
that  this  word  is  misjudged  by  many,  and  associated, 


416  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

if  not  with  the  sinful,  at  least  with  the  visionary.  But 
it  is  a  true,  God-given,  part  of  human  nature,  and 
ready  to  be  turned  to  the  noblest  use.  While  sin  has 
made  it  a  charnel-house  of  corruption,  or  a  storehouse 
of  vanities,  purity  can  fill  its  treasury  with  divine 
aspirations  which  are  as  grand  as  they  are  transcend- 
ently  real.  It  is  that  power  of  the  soul  which  gives 
to  hope  its  wings.  Let  it  but  rise  from  the  desire  of 
what  is  true  and  good,  and  be  chastened  by  the  faith 
of  what  God  has  promised,  and  it  can  lift  up  the  soul 
above  the  most  terrible  trials,  and  put  it  already  in 
possession  of  the  unseen  and  heavenly.  No  one  can 
read  the  Bible  without  seeing  that  it  has  everywhere 
its  Pisgahs  and  Tabors,  and  exceeding  high  mountains, 
whence  the  beauty  and  glory  of  the  future  are  to  be 
discerned,  —  and  God's  Spirit  carries  men  to  their 
summit,  and  bids  them  open  their  eyes.  It  is  true 
that  all  cannot  rise  to  the  same  height,  nor  look  with 
the  same  vision,  but  in  every  nature  the  faculty  of  the 
ideal  lies  hidden,  and  religion  was  intended,  above  all 
things  else,  to  call  it  forth.  Every  true  Christian  has 
the  soul  of  the  poet  latent  in  his  nature,  and,  if  many 
are  kept  depressed  and  earth-attracted,  it  is  because 
they  do  not  strive  enough  to  free  this  power  from  sin- 
ful and  worldly  encumbrances,  and  to  give  it  wings  to 
soar  to  its  native  home. 

Let  us  dwell  more  on  those  scenes  of  the  invisible 
and  future  which  are  depicted  in  God's  Word,  and  of 
which  the  renewed  heart  has  the  presentiment  in  itself, 
and  while  the  imagination  gives  vividness  to  these  pic- 
tures, faith  will  give  reality  to  them  ;  for  it  tells  us 
that,  in  the  degree  in  which  they  are  good  for  us,  they 


HOPE    AND    PATIENCE.  417 

must  be  ours.  Even  in  regard  to  the  deliverances 
and  blessings  which  we  may  desire  from  God  in  our 
present  life,  we  are  not  required  to  forecast  the  issue 
in  colorless  vagueness.  As  we  may  wish  and  pray  for 
definite  things,  so  we  may  imagine  them,  and  try  to 
think  how  God  may  and  can  bestow  them.  The  im- 
agination which  is  permitted  to  others,  is  not  forbidden 
to  a  Christian,  only  with  him  it  will  not  be  so  positive 
as  to  dictate  God's  way  of  realizing  it.  He  will  seek 
to  feel,  in  all  his  forecastings,  that  God  can  do  to  him 
above  what  he  can  think,  and  that  even  in  this  world 
it  does  not  enter  into  man's  heart  to  conceive  what 
God  prepares  for  them  that  love  Him.  What  he  hopes 
for,  whether  of  the  heavenly  or  earthly,  will  still  be 
the  salvation  of  the  Lord. 

The  next  exercise  of  soul  which  we  are  to  cherish 
toward  God's  interpositions  is  "  quiet  waiting" 

There  come  times  in  life  when,  as  labor  seems  vain 
and  resultless,  so  also  hope  droops  and  is  ready  to  die. 
The  strong  emotions  of  our  nature  do  not  continue 
long  with  equal  freshness.  The  laws  of  action  and  re- 
action, as  in  material  things,  come  into  operation,  and, 
in  proportion  to  excitement  which  has  strained  nature, 
there  is  depression.  It  would  save  some  Christians 
much  grief  and  vain  self-reproach  if  they  would  remem- 
ber this.  We  are  often  no  more  accountable  for  our 
moods  than  for  our  temperament.  After  seasons  of 
excessive  emotion,  there  will  come  times  of  lassitude 
sinking  to  torpor.  Both  have  their  use.  The  shadow 
is  as  necessary  for  growth  as  the  sunshine,  and  these 
alternations  give  the  Christian  graces  their  full  propor- 
tion in  the  character.    Both  have  their  duties.    Though 

27 


418  HOPE    AND    PATIENCE. 

we  may  not  be  responsible  for  moods,  we  are  for  the 
way  in  which  we  act  under  them.  When  all  our  en- 
deavor fails,  we  are  to  fall  back  on  hope,  and  when 
hope  begins  to  faint,  there  is  still  left  to  us  "  quiet 
waiting."  So  full  of  resources  is  the  grace  of  God, 
that,  as  each  lower  deep  of  trouble  opens,  a  new  power 
in  the  Christian  life  can  be  created  to  meet  it. 

"  Quiet  waiting  "  is  that  which,  in  other  parts  of  the 
Bible,  and  especially  in  the  New  Testament,  is  termed 
patience.  It  is  the  part  of  hope  to  seek  the  future  ;  it 
is  the  duty  of  patience  to  rest  calmly  in  the  present, 
and  not  to  fret  —  to  be  satisfied  to  be  where  God  ap- 
points, and  to  suffer  what  God  sends.  It  is  fitly  placed 
after  hope,  because  it  follows  it  in  the  natural  course 
of  an  educated  Christian  life.  Hope  belongs  to  youth; 
patience  is  the  lesson  of  maturity.  Hope  enters  with 
a  man  into  his  first  battle,  perhaps  in  some  forms  it  is 
never  brighter  than  then  —  the  helmet-hope  of  salva- 
tion, has  been  dimmed  and  dinted  by  no  blow ;  but 
patience  is  the  hard  acquirement  of  the  veteran,  gained 
in  many  a  march  and  campaign.  So  it  was  unfolded 
for  our  example  in  the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  who 
endured  God's  will  after  He  had  done  it,  and  took  the 
cup  of  trial  patiently  into  his  hand  when  He  had  fin- 
ished his  active  work. 

As  there  are  means  for  stimulating  hope,  so  there 
are  also  for  strengthening  patience,  and  there  is,  in 
some  measure,  a  correspondence  in  them. 

One  means  is  common  to  both  —  the  employment  of 
faith.  It  will  enable  us  more  quietly  to  wait  if  we 
have  confidence  in  the  all-wise  and  all-merciful  arrange- 
ments of  God.     The  failures,  —  the   seeming   blanks 


HOPE   AND   PATIENCE.  419 

and  dull  monotonies  of  life,  —  which  try  our  patience 
most,  are  equally  at  his  disposal  with  its  highest  activ- 
ities and  enjoyments,  and  the  very  wildernesses  and 
solitary  places  of  it  may  be  those  which  shall  yet  rejoice 
and  blossom  like  the  rose.  He  can  make  all  its  wastes 
to  be  as  Eden,  and  bring  out  the  best  spiritual  results 
from  what  seem  to  us  the  most  barren  spots. 

In  other  respects,  the  means  for  growing  in  patience 
are  very  different  from  those  that  help  hope.  If  hope 
is  nursed  by  desire  of  what  we  have  not,  patience  is 
maintained  by  contentment  ivith  ivhat  we  have.  Our  duty 
may  be,  when  desire  of  something  lost  or  longed  for  is 
consuming  us,  to  bend  our  look  more  intently  on  the 
present,  and  try  to  discover  how  many  things,  and  how 
precious,  God  has  left  to  us.  There  are  situations  in 
life  which,  to  the  outside  spectator,  appear  the  most 
dark  and  cheerless,  that  are  far  from  being  so  to  those 
who  are  in  the  centre  of  them.  Bright  spots  come  out, 
and  sources  of  interest  open  up,  which  common  eyes 
disregard  ;  and  we  learn  that  life  may  be  like  the  homes 
of  some  Eastern  lands,  which  have  their  dull,  dead 
walls  to  the  crowd,  but  their  fountains  and  flowers  and 
singing  birds  in  the  courts  within.  There  are  many 
joys  with  which  a  stranger  cannot  intermeddle,  which 
he  cannot  even  discern,  and,  if  we  are  to  wait  quietly, 
we  must  cultivate  an  eye  for  these.  One  purpose  of 
our  detention  may  be  that  we  may  discover  them,  for, 
both  in  the  natural  and  Christian  life,  men  lose  what 
is  near,  in  their  haste  to  reach  the  distant.  Nay,  more, 
if  they  reached  the  future  it  would  disappoint  them, 
for  it  is  only  to  those  who  have  learned  to  draw  from 
the  present  its  hidden  stores  that  the  future  can  yield 


420  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

its  true  and  rich  treasures.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
we  should  shut  out  hope  as  one  of  these  sources  of 
present  interest,  but  we  must  admit  it  as  the  handmaid 
of  patience,  not  as  its  mistress,  and  we  must  treat  it  so 
that  we  can  feel  thankful  there  are  many  other  things 
besides  hope  which  still  abide. 

Then,  instead  of  that  imagination  which  nourishes 
hope,  we  must  cultivate  patience  by  a  calm  attention  to 
duties.  Quiet  waiting  is  not  inaction.  We  may  be 
waiting  for  one  object,  while  we  are  steadily  working 
for  an6ther.  If  some  aim  that  engrossed  our  life  is 
withdrawn,  and  some  way  of  usefulness  that  had  all 
our  affection  is  closed,  we  shall  find  there  are  other 
roads  to  walk  in,  and  other  works  to  perform,  provided 
the  heart  will  accept  them.  Even  though  the  heart 
shrinks,  if  the  hand  will  only  give  itself  to  what  it  finds 
to  do,  and  will  do  it  with  its  might,  the  heart  will  fol- 
low. It  is  a  kind  law  of  our  nature,  that  labor  ex- 
pended on  any  object  gives  an  interest  in  it ;  and  it  is 
a  still  kinder  law  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  that  the 
tamest  and  most  insignificant  of  daily  duties  may  be 
made  noble  and  divine,  when  the  thought  of  God  and 
the  will  of  Christ  are  carried  into  them.  One  soul  may 
rise  to  heroism  in  the  narrowest  circle  of  routine,  when 
another  dwindles  upon  the  grandest  fields  of  action. 

Thus  the  means  are  at  our  disposal  for  building  up 
these  virtues  of  hope  and  patience  in  our  character. 
When  we  give  our  souls  up  in  trust  to  God,  He  gives 
them  back  to  us  again  with  his  hand  on  them,  that  we 
may  labor  to  fill  them  with  all  that  can  make  them 
happy  in  the  future  and  strong  in  the  present. 


HOPE   AND   PATIENCE.  421 

III.  We  come  now,  in  the  third  place,  to  consider 
the  benefit  of  uniting  these  — "  It  is  good  both  to  hope 
and  quietly  to  wait." 

But  is  it  possible  to  unite  them  ?  It  would  seem  as 
if  hope  and  patience  were  at  open  war.  Hope  carries 
us  to  the  future ;  patience  binds  us  to  the  present. 
Hope  has  a  restless  fire  and  energy ;  the  strength  of 
patience  is  in  calm  and  often  in  unresisting  endurance. 
We  can  see,  as  we  look  around,  how  ready  men  are  to 
run  into  one  or  other  of  the  extremes  —  how  some 
natures  are  over-sanguine  and  unsteadfast,  others 
submissive  to  all  that  comes,  with  a  dull  despondency. 
Yet  it  is  for  this  very  reason  that  the  two  are  conjoined, 
and  that  we  are  urged  to  aim  at  the  true  balance.  If 
we  feel  that  our  nature  tends  to  either  side,  we  must 
strive,  with  God's  help,  to  correct  it  by  its  opposite. 

We  know  how,  in  material  laws,  forces  which  coun- 
teract each  other  can  combine  in  harmony.  The  attrac- 
tion that  holds  our  world  to  the  sun  is  met  by  the 
impulse  which  propels  it  straight  into  space,  and  the 
movement  which  gives  us  day  and  night,  summer  and 
winter,  is  the  result  of  both.  Every  Christian  heart 
feels  how  it  can  be  going  forward  in  thought  to 
some  blessing  God  has  promised,  and  yet  resting,  while 
it  is  withheld,  in  submission  to  the  Divine  will,  —  as 
John,  in  Patmos,  walked  the  streets  of  the  heavenly 
city,  and  listened  to  its  songs,  and  yet  abode  in  his  soli- 
tary exile,  and  was  satisfied  to  be  there  as  long  as  God 
required. 

That  we  may  be  led  to  aim  at  both  of  these,  consider 
this,  that  the  one  is  needful  to  save  the  other  from  sinking 
into  sin.     If  hope  possessed  the  Christian  heart  alone, 


422  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

it  would  be  ready  to  flutter  itself  into  impatience.  The 
brighter  the  future  rose  upon  the  vision,  the  more  the 
man  would  fret  against  the  delay.  Hope  left  to  itself 
would  be  an  ill-disciplined  child,  that  cries  for  what  its 
heart  is  set  upon,  and  will  hear  of  no  denial.  It  would 
soon  cease  to  be  hope,  —  its  clear  eye  would  be  dim 
with  tears  of  discontent,  and  its  heart  would  sink  for 
the  distance  from  its  goal. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  had  quiet  waiting  without 
hope,  it  would  be  in  danger  of  settling  into  stagnancy. 
The  object  of  its  waiting  would  disappear,  and  trials 
without  any  end  in  view  would  benumb  and  paralyze 
it.  Hope  without  patience  would  be  life  kindling  into 
over-intensity,  and  burning  itself  out  in  fruitless  long- 
ings. Patience  without  hope  would  be  the  decay  of 
life's  flame  for  want  of  nourishment,  till  it  would  sink 
into  the  quietude  of  death.  Whenever  hope  rises  into 
impatience,  it  is  the  will  of  God  that  quiet  waiting 
should  lay  its  hand  upon  it,  and  bid  it  "  rest  in  the 
Lord  and  wait  patiently  for  Him,  and  not  fret,"  for 
there  is  purpose  in  his  delay,  and  occupation  mean- 
while for  us.  When  patient  waiting,  on  its  side, 
becomes  indifferent  or  torpid,  it  is  not  less  the  will  of 
God  that  hope  should  come  and  wake  it  up,  as  the  cry 
did  the  slumbering  virgins,  "  Behold  the  bridegroom 
cometh,  go  ye  forth  to  meet  Him."  On  either  side  we 
may  fall  into  sin,  and  the  fully  approved  state  is  to 
have  the  eye  looking  forward,  while  the  heart  is  at 
rest,  —  to  combine  these  two,  as  they  are  found  so 
often  in  the  Bible  :  by  the  Psalmist  (cxxx.  5),  "  I  wait 
for  the  Lord,  my  soul  doth  wait,  and  in  his  word  do  I 
hope,"  — by  the  Apostle  (1  Thess.  i.  3),  "  the  patience 


HOPE   AND   PATIENCE.  423 

of  hope  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  —  and  by  the 
speaker  here,  "  both  to  hope  and  quietly  to  wait  for  the 
salvation  of  the  Lord." 

Consider  this  also,  that  the  one  is  needful  to  raise 
the  other  to  its  full  strength.  Christian  patience  rises 
to  its  proper  power  not  through  any  force  of  insensibil- 
ity. It  is  thoughtful  and  reasonable,  and  must  know 
where  it  is  and  what  it  waits  for.  It  is  the  part  of 
hope  to  tell  it  this,  —  to  throw  into  it  the  light  of  in- 
telligence, and  make  it  strong  with  the  promises  and 
the  power  of  God.  The  Saviour  still  leaves  us,  as  He 
left  his  first  disciples  in  the  garden,  with  the  words, 
"  Tarry  ye  here  and  watch,"  and  promises  to  come 
again.  If  hope  can  lay  hold  of  this  promise,  and  keep 
it  fast,  patience  will  maintain  its  post  like  a  sentinel 
who  is  sure  of  relief  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  if  the 
hour  seems  long,  will  beguile  it  with  those  words,  which 
have  passed  like  a  "  song  in  the  night"  through  many 
a  weary  heart,  —  "  For  yet  a  little  while,  and  He  that 
shall  come  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry." 

Then,  as  hope  strengthens  patience,  patience  in 
return  will  strengthen  hope.  Such  allies  are  all  the 
Christian  graces,  children  in  one  family,  who,  if  there 
be  love  among  them,  supplement  each  other  by  their 
opposites.  If  a  man  is  enabled  to  "  rest  in  the  Lord, 
and  wait  patiently  for  Him,"  it  is  a  reason  to  him  for 
hoping  that  there  is  a  divine  work  going  on  in  his  life, 
which  the  God  of  patience  and  consolation  will  com- 
plete. If  I  can  feel  that  there  is  a  strength  which 
bears  me  up  under  heavy  burdens  and  lonely  hours,  I 
can  trust  it  for  more  than  this.  I  must  trust  it  for  more, 
since  my  inmost  heart  feels  that  patience  is  only  the 


424  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

means  of  my  life's  walk,  and  not  its  end,  and  God  does 
not  intend  to  deceive  ns,  either  by  our  human  or  our 
Christian  instincts.  Patience  brooding  over  its  own 
quiet  spirit,  which  yet  it  feels  is  not  its  own,  has  the 
presentiment  and  augury  of  an  end  beyond  itself. 
In  the  deep  well  of  a  tranquil  heart,  the  star  of  hope 
is  lying,  —  ever  clearer  as  the  calm  is  deepening,  — 
reflected  down  into  it  from  God's  own  heaven. 

This  is  God's  manner,  first,  to  give  the  inward  peace 
of  soul,  and  afterwards  the  final  deliverance.  He  came 
into  the  ship  and  calmed  the  disciples'  fears,  and  then 
He  spoke  and  calmed  the  storm :  "  I  will  be  with  thee 
in  trouble  :  and  then  it  follows,  "  I  will  deliver  thee." 
Peter's  prison  was  opened  by  the  prayers  of  friends 
without,  but  that  of  Paul  and  Silas  was  burst  by  the 
song  within,  and  this  is  something  nobler  and  better. 
When  God  gives  to  us  this  patience  which  can  rise 
even  to  triumph,  we  may  begin  to  rejoice  in  hope,  and 
be  sure  that  He  will  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives. 
It  is  the  order  of  that  golden  chain  (Rom.  v.  3), 
"  Knowing  that  tribulation  worketh  patience ;  and  pa- 
tience, experience ;  and  experience,  hope  :  and  hope 
maketh  not  ashamed  ;  because  the  love  of  God  is  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  is  given 
unto  us." 

And  now,  if  it  be  possible  to  unite  these  two,  and  if 
it  be  so  needful,  it  should  be  the  lesson  of  our  life  daily 
to  aim  at  it,  —  to  hope  without  impatience,  and  to  wait 
without  despondency,  —  to  fold  the  wing  in  captivity, 
like  a  caged  bird,  and  be  ready  to  use  the  pinion  when 
He  breaks  our  prison.  Let  us  address  ourselves  with 
a  cheerful  endurance  to  our  duties,  whether  they  weary 


HOPE   AND   PATIENCE.  425 

us  by  their  weight  or  by  their  trivial  monotony,  —  and 
to  trials,  whether  they  come  in  great  afflictions  or  in 
fretting  and  ever-recurring  vexations.  We  may  attain 
to  that  hopeful  patience  which  comes  not  from  stoi- 
cism but  Christianity,  which  feels  all  the  good  of  life, 
and  yet  can  be  strong  and  satisfied  in  the  want  of  it, — 
the  finest  acquirement  of  that  higher  school  which  the 
gospel  has  introduced,  "  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever 
state  I  am  therewith  to  be  content." 

We  shall  find  increasingly  "  how  good  it  is."  It  is 
good  now  in  the  depth  of  the  soul,  —  in  the  conscious 
assurance  that  it  is  better  to  rest  in  the  hardest  of  God's 
ways  than  to  wander  at  will  in  our  own.  "  Behold, 
we  count  them  happy  who  endure."  We  shall  find  it 
good  in  the  growth  of  all  the  Christian  graces,  under 
the  shadow  of  patience.  Were  we  to  gain  every 
blessing  so  soon  as  sought,  the  blessing  itself  would  be 
small,  and  we  should  gain  nothing  more.  But  now, 
while  we  patiently  wait,  faith  becomes  stronger,  resig- 
nation sinks  into  a  deeper  attitude  of  reverence,  gen- 
tleness and  meekness  are  clothed  with  softer  beauty, 
and  courage  and  fortitude,  and  all  the  stronger  powers 
of  the  soul,  arouse  themselves  and  put  on  armor  "  to 
endure  hardness  as  good  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ." 

We  shall  find  how  good  it  is  in  the  enhancement  of 
every  blessing  for  which  we  have  to  wait.  God's  plan  of 
providing  blessings  for  us  is  to  educate  the  capacity 
which  is  to  receive  them.  We  are  straitened  in  our- 
selves, and  must  be  kept  waiting  till  our  minds  and 
hearts  enlarge.  "  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that 
after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might  receive 
the  promise."    Between  your  use  of  all  the  means  and 


426  HOPE   AND   PATIENCE. 

the  result  which  you  desire  there  is  still  a  gulf  of  sepa- 
ration, on  the  brink  of  which  patience  must  sit  and 
look  across,  waiting  God's  time  and  way  to  pass  it. 
And  when  patience  has  her  perfect  work  "  ye  shall  be 
perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing"  (James  i.  4). 
Then  the  result  will  come,  —  the  full  blessing  you  de- 
sire, or  something  better.  And,  at  the  close  of  all,  the 
pilgrims  are  kept  resting  on  the  river's  bank,  in  view 
of  the  celestial  city,  till  the  Lord  send  his  message  for 
them  to  cross  the  stream.  If  they  have  a  right  heart 
it  will  be  growing  larger  while  they  wait,  and  the  pro- 
visions of  the  home  will  enlarge  to  meet  it,  for  while 
they  are  waiting  Christ  is  working  to  prepare  the  place. 
"  Be  patient,  therefore,  brethren,  unto  the  coming  of 
the  Lord." 

Of  all  the  motives  to  hopeful  endurance,  surely  this 
last  is  not  the  smallest,  that  He  who  lays  the  duty  upon 
us  has  Himself  given  the  example  of  it.  He  asks  noth- 
ing from  us  that  he  has  not  done  for  us,  and  done  by  a 
harder  road,  and  with  a  heavier  burden.  If  there  are 
some  of  us  who  have  not  begun  to  think  of  the  "  salva- 
tion of  the  Lord  "  in  any  way,  let  us  turn  the  eye  to 
Him  who  did  so  much  to  bring  it  within  our  view  and 
reach.  The  only  recompense  we  can  make  Him  is  to 
seek  to  be  part  of  his  joy  and  crown.  And  if  we  have 
begun  the  course  which,  with  all  its  struggles,  is  a 
happy  and  a  hopeful  one,  let  us  keep  the  eye  fixed  on 
Him  who  is  our  Surety,  our  Forerunner,  and  our  Prize, 
and  "  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  be- 
fore us,  looking  unto  Jesus  the  author  and  finisher  of 
our  faith  ;  who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him  en- 
dured the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is  set  down 
at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God." 


XXIV. 


|hc   fimrat  Jutmt  ftcar  mtljr  in  Uhhi 


"  It  doth  not  yet  appear  -what  -we  shall  be  ;  but  -we  know  that, 
-when  He  ( Christ)  shall  appear,  ive  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we 
shall  see  Him  as  He  is." — i  John  iii.  2. 


HE  apostle  admits  that  there  is  obscurity  hang- 
ing over  much  of  our  eternal  future.  He 
glances  at  this  part  slightly,  but  it  is  the 
background  of  that  one  Hght-sce?ie  to  which  He  after- 
wards points.  "It  doth  not  appear,"  —  that  is,  it  is 
not  clear,  —  "what  we  shall  be."  This  is  about  the 
height  to  which  Gentile  wisdom  could  reach.  It  might 
say  in  a  hesitating  tone,  "  We  shall  be,"  but  it  had  to 
add,  as  the  sum  of  its  knowledge,  "it  is  not  clear 
tvhat."  The  gospel,  though  it  can  say  much  more, 
suffers  these  words  to  remain,  and,  if  you  consider  for 
a  moment,  you  will  see  of  how  many  things  God's 
revelation  still  leaves  us  ignorant. 

The  first  step  of  the  soul  into  another  state  of  being 
is  a  mystery.  No  doubt  it  continues  conscious,  and 
its  conscious  existence,  in  the  case  of  God's  children,  is 
most  blessed :  "  To  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ  is  far 
better."     But  the  existence  of  the  soul  separate  from 


428  THE    ETERNAL   FUTURE 

the  body,  and  from  all  material  organs,  is  incompre- 
hensible. 

The  place  of  our  future  life  is  obscure.  How  there 
can  be  relation  to  place  without  a  body  we  do  not  know, 
and  even  when  the  body  is  restored,  we  cannot  tell  the 
locality  of  the  resurrection-world.  Nothing  in  reason 
and  nothing  certain  in  revelation,  connects  it  with  any 
one  spot  in  God's  universe.  It  may  be  away  from 
earth,  in  some  central  kingdom,  the  glittering  confines 
of  which  we  can  perceive  in  thick-sown  stars,  that  are 
the  pavement  of  the  land  which  has  its  dust  of  gold. 
It  may  be,  as  our  hearts  would  rather  suggest,  in  this 
world,  renewed  and  glorified  —  a  world  sacred  as  the 
scene  of  Christ's  sufferings,  and  endeared  to  us  as 
the  cradle  of  our  immortal  life.  Or,  that  great  world, 
Heaven  —  the  heaven  of  heavens  —  may  gather  many 
worlds  around  this  one  as  the  centre  of  God's  most 
godlike  work  —  may  enclose  the  new  and  old,  the  near 
and  far,  in  its  wide  embrace.  "  It  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear." 

The  outward  manner  of  our  final  existence  is  also 
uncertain.  That  it  will  be  blessed  and  glorious,  freed 
from  all  that  can  hurt  or  annoy,  we  may  well  believe. 
That  it  will  be  proportioned  to  the  future  material 
frame,  we  may  reasonably  infer.  We  may  calculate 
that,  in  the  degree  in  which  the  incorruptible  and  im- 
mortal body  shall  excel  the  body  of  sin  and  death,  our 
final  home,  with  its  scenes  of  beauty  and  grandeur,  its 
landscapes  and  skies,  shall  surpass  our  dwelling-place 
on  this  earth.  There  is  a  measure  in  the  works  of  God 
on  which  we  can  reckon,  both  in  the  patterns  of  things 
in  the  heavens,  and  in  the  heavenly  things  themselves. 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  429 

But  then  we  want  the  first  step  for  our  calculation,  in 
the  ignorance  of  the  nature  and  properties  of  the  resur- 
rection-frame. Whether  we  may  possess  merely  our 
present  faculties,  enlarged  and  strengthened,  as  a 
child's  mind  expands  into  a  man's,  or  whether  new 
faculties  of  perception  may  not  be  made  to  spring  forth, 
as  if  sight  were  given  to  a  blind  man,  we  find  it  impos- 
sible to  affirm.  Conjecture  on  some  of  these  points 
may  be  lawful,  —  for  a  certain  class  of  minds  it  may 
be  unavoidable,  but  it  should  be  touched  always  lightly, 
ready  to  be  surrendered  for  the  better  things  in  store, 
and  with  this  saying  of  the  apostle  written  over  it,  "  It 
doth  not  yet  appear." 

Many  of  the  modes  of  thought  and  feeling,  in  that  life 
to  come,  perplex  us.  The  great  laws  of  mind  and  spirit 
must  remain  the  same,  because  in  them  we  are  formed 
after  the  image  of  God.  In  these  we  are  his  offspring, 
and  draw  not  simply  from  his  will,  but  from  his  nature. 
Truth  must  for  ever  continue  truth,  and  goodness 
eternally  commend  itself  to  the  soul,  else  our  training 
for  the  future  life  would  be  valueless,  and  our  confi- 
dence in  the  reality  of  things  shaken.  We  can  never 
admit  that  the  perceptions  of  the  spiritual  world  will 
be  reversed  or  essentially  altered.  But  there  may  be 
large  modifications,  through  the  extension  and  eleva- 
tion of  our  thoughts.  We  shall  see  the  same  spiritual 
objects,  but  from  other  positions,  and  with  higher  pow- 
ers of  judging.  How  far  this  may  affect  our  views  we 
cannot  say.  Can  we  think  of  any  solution  to  the  ques- 
tions which  sometimes  torment  our  m  m!s.  —  of  fore- 
ordination  and  free-will,  of  the  entrance  of  moral  evil 
into  God's  world,  and  its  terrible  effects ;    and,  if  we 


430  THE   ETERNAL   FUTURE 

are  never  to  gain  a  solution  of  these  things,  can  we 
understand  how  our  thoughts  will  attain  repose  ?  We 
cannot  comprehend  how  the  heart  will  remain  tenderly 
human,  and  yet  not  be  pained  about  things  the  very 
fear  of  which  now  tears  it  in  sunder  —  how  it  will  be 
able  to  carry  in  it  some  of  our  earthly  memories,  with- 
out a  burning  blush  and  an  ineradicable  sting.  Every 
one  of  us  is  beset  with  his  own  particular  doubts  and 
fears,  when  we  try  to  take  the  survey,  but  we  all  have 
them  in  some  form,  and  they  belong  of  necessity  to 
our  present  position.  We  feel  the  temptation  irresisti- 
ble, at  times,  to  venture  within  the  vail,  and  penetrate 
into  the  conditions  of  our  future  being.  But  we  are 
soon  compelled  to  return.  The  atmosphere  is  too  sub- 
tle, the  azure  is  deep  even  to  darkness,  and  from  every 
endeavor  we  must  come  back  to  realize  the  lesson  of 
our  present  state,  that  while  Christians  are  now  the 
sons  of  God,  the  heir  is  but  a  child. 

It  would  be  unsatisfactory  enough  if  this  were  all 
that  could  be  said  and  done.  But  the  apostle  puts  this 
dark  background  upon  the  canvas,  that  he  may  set  in 
relief  a  central  scene  and  figure  —  Christ  and  our 
relation  to  Him.  "  When  Christ  shall  appear,  we 
shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is." 
It  matters  little,  the  apostle  says,  what  may  be  our 
ignorance  about  other  things,  what  doubts  may  agitate 
us,  what  darkness  lie  on  the  edge  of  our  horizon,  if  we 
can  abide  in  the  centre  with  this  great  Enlightener. 
He  casts  his  illumination  upon  our  future  destiny  as 
well  as  upon  our  present  duty.  There  are  three  things 
promised  us  which  are  all  connected  with  each  other : 
—  Christ's  manifestation  —  "  He  shall  appear."    A  full 


CLEAR   ONLY    IN    CHRIST.  481 

vision  on  our  part —  "We  shall  see  Him  as  He  is." 
And  complete  assimilation  as  the  result  —  "We  shall  be 
like  Him."     We  shall  take  these  in  their  order. 

I.  The  first  thing  promised  is  the  manifestation  op 
Christ  —  "  Christ  shall  appear."  It  is  not  merely  that 
Christ  shall  be  seen,  but  seen  as  never  before.  The 
word  used  is  the  same  as  that  already  employed.  "  It 
is  not  manifest  what  we  shall  be,  but  Christ  shall  be 
made  manifest."  The  simplest,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  most  comprehensive  way  of  thinking  of  this  man- 
ifestation of  Christ  is  to  take  as  our  guide  the  two- 
fold nature  which  makes  Him  a  revelation  to  us  in 
this  world  —  his  humanity  and  his  divinity  —  and  we 
shall  attempt  to  keep  these  in  view  throughout  the 
entire  subject. 

The  first  thought  of  the  apostle  was  no  doubt  the 
human  nature  of  Christ  as  appearing  again  to  the  eyes 
of  his  friends.  He  left  with  that  nature,  and  promised 
so  to  return.  "  I  will  see  you  again,  and  your  heart 
shall  rejoice."  The  angels  who  appeared  at  his  ascen- 
sion comforted  his  disciples  with  the  words,  "  Ye  men 
of  Galilee,  this  same  Jesus  who  is  taken  up  from  you 
into  heaven  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have 
seen  Him  go  into  heaven."  It  may  be  a  subject  of 
endless  and  most  consoling  thought  to  us  to  go  over 
the  whole  history  of  his  earthly  life,  and  feel  that  it  is 
not  an  eternally  vanished  thing.  His  first  disciples 
are  not  to  be  the  only  favored  men  who  ever  saw 
Christ  after  the  flesh.  They  will  regain  the  view  they 
lost,  and  we,  if  we  are  of  them  who  love  his  appearing, 
shall  share  it  with  them.     All  the  personal  life  which 


432  THE    ETERNAL    FUTURE 

He  lived  with  them  in  friendship,  so  close  and  tender, 
—  in  the  house  and  by  the  way,  —  beside  the  lake  and 
among  the  hills  of  Galilee,  —  amid  the  shades  of  Beth- 
any and  in  the  upper  chamber  at  Jerusalem,  —  shall 
be  renewed  again.  "  They  shall  walk  with  Him  in 
white  ;  they  shall  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  He 
goeth."  It  is  true  that  there  will  be  a  great  difference 
in  many  things.  The  Jerusalem  above,  golden  and 
glorious,  with  the  temple  where  they  serve  Him  day 
and  night,  shall  be  something  else  than  that  where  He 
endured  the  contradiction  of  sinners  against  Himself. 
The  home  of  Bethany,  where,  if  anywhere  on  earth,  the 
love  of  the  family  which  gathers  round  Christ  was  felt, 
is  a  very  distant  figure  of  the  Father's  house  of  many 
mansions  ;  and  the  goodly  land  of  Canaan  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  could  have  no  glory,  at  its  best,  com- 
pared with  the  better  country  when  that  promise  is 
fulfilled,  — "  Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  his 
beauty ;  they  shall  behold  the  land  that  is  very  far 
off." 

But  this  difference  of  circumstance  and  scene  shall 
not  make  any  difference  in  the  true  human  nature  of 
Christ.  The  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  who  lay  on 
his  breast,  did  not  expect  to  find  it  so.  That  nature 
will  be  changed  no  doubt,  but  not  in  being  made  less 
human.  The  likeness  of  sinful  flesh  will  be  removed  — 
the  marred  visage  and  form  of  suffering,  —  but  the  look 
that  turned  on  Peter  —  the  face  that  rejoiced  in  that 
hour  when  He  said,  "  I  thank  Thee,  0  Father,  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth"  —  the  hands  that  blessed  the  chil- 
dren,—  these  shall  remain,  with  all  the  soul  of  pity 
that  was  in  them,  and  the  beating  heart  which  went 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN   CHRIST.  433 

forth  through  them.  The  only  difference  will  be  that 
they  shall  appear.  In  this  world  they  were  hidden, 
seen  only  by  the  few,  seen  obscurely,  realized  feebly  ; 
but,  when  He  is  made  manifest,  they  shall  be  the  centre 
and  the  sunlight  of  a  ransomed  world,  the  heritage  of 
an  innumerable  company,  and  yet  each  one,  as  if  by 
himself,  shall  have  his  view  of,  and  portion  in,  the 
true  human  fellowship  of  the  Son  of  God. 

In  the  manifestation  of  Christ,  the  apostle  must  have 
thought   also   of  his   Divine  nature.     The  evangelist 
John,  beyond  all  the  other  sacred  writers,  delights  to 
dwell  on  the  conception  that  our  human  nature  became 
the  tabernacle  of  God,  that  He  might  dwell  with  men, 
and  make  them  his  people,  and  be  their  God.     It  was 
an  incarnation  in  which  the  heart  of  God  reached  the 
most  distant  part  of  his  spiritual  creation,  — a  descent 
in  which  infinite  greatness  takes  the  deepest  form  of 
condescension,  and  infinite  goodness  the  tenderest  form 
of  compassion.     When  a  man's  spirit  has  been  opened 
to   it,  it   reveals    to  him   a  universe   of  love,  at  the 
summit  and  base  of  which  are  Divine    majesty  and 
human  misery,  and  the  incarnate  Son  of  God  is  seen 
touching   both   and   bringing    them    together.      This 
universe  is  its  own  witness  to  the  man  who  has  begun 
to  live  in  it,  and  he  who  has  not  is  still  stumbling 
among  graves,  on  which  all  the  stars  of  the  sky  do 
not  cast  a  ray  of  hope.     «  God  is  the  Lord,  who  hath 
showed  us  light," 

His  first  appearance  in  this  nature  was  dim  and 
overcast,  both  for  the  sake  of  the  weak  vision  of  fallen 
humanity  ;  and  because  suffering  and  sacrifice  were 
necessary  for  the  work  He  had  to  perform.    Before  He 

23 


434  THE    ETERNAL   FUTURE 

could  raise,  He  needed  to  redeem.  When  He  became 
man  "He  emptied  Himself"  of  his  Divinity,  as  far  as 
this  was  possible,  —  gathered  the  attributes  of  the 
Infinite  within  the  limits  of  the  finite,  and  shut  up  the 
rays  of  his  uncreated  glory  in  the  likeness  of  sinful 
flesh.  This  very  hiding,  indeed,  was  a  manifestation, 
but  it  was  a  manifestation  to  faith.  The  world  did  not 
recognize  Him,  and  even  his  own  had  but  a  presenti- 
ment of  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  which  dwelt  in  Him 
bodily.  The  glimpses  to  the  eye  of  sense  were  partial 
and  momentary.  They  were  given  to  the  few,  at  rare 
and  broken  intervals,  as  in  his  miraculous  interposi- 
tions —  in  his  transfiguration  —  his  appearance  to 
dying  Stephen,  and  to  John  in  Patmos. 

When  He  shall  appear  there  may  be  expected  a  clear 
manifestation  of  the  Divine  nature  through  the  human. 
It  will  not  be  necessary  for  him  to  "  hold  back  the  face 
of  his  throne,  and  spread  his  cloud  upon  it."  The 
glory  that  He  had  with  the  Father  before  the  world 
was  shall  be  resumed,  and,  if  we  may  venture  to  say  it, 
raised,  —  for  the  glory  of  the  Divine  shall  have  added 
to  it  the  grace  of  the  human.  The  majesty,  the  power 
and  wisdom  which  belong  to  Him  as  the  Son  of 
God,  shall  go  forth  unrestrained,  in  union  with  the 
tenderness  and  sympathy  which  fill  his  heart  as  the 
Son  of  Man.  Every  one  who  sees  Him  in  that  appear- 
ance will  be  able  to  take  up  the  words  in  a  higher 
sense  than  at  first:  "He  dwelt  among  us,  and  we 
beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only  begotten  of 
the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth." 

II.  The  second  thing  promised  at  the  appearance  of 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  435 

Christ  is  a  full  vision  on  our  part  :  "  We  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is." 

This  implies  a  necessary  and  very  great  change  on 
lis,  before  we  can  bear  and  embrace,  even  in  the  small- 
est measure,  the  perfect  manifestation  of  Christ.  We 
may  know  something  of  the  change  by  thinking  of  that 
twofold  view  of  Christ  of  which  we  have  spoken.  The 
bodily  frame  of  man  must  be  fitted  for  the  vision  of 
Christ's  glorified  human  nature,  and  man's  soul  fitted 
to  understand  more  of  the  Godhead  in  Him. 

There  must  certainly  be  a  change  in  our  material 
frame  before  we  can  sustain  the  view  of  Christ's 
exalted  humanity.  Some  degree  of  affinity  is  necessary 
before  there  can  be  any  fellowship.  When  Christ 
dwelt  on  earth  in  his  body  of  weakness,  his  human 
friends  could  hold  intercourse  with  Him.  But  so  soon 
as  He  assumed  his  glorified  form,  He  left  them,  and 
carried  on  his  communication  by  his  Spirit  in  their 
souls.  When,  on  rare  occasions,  He  withdrew  the 
curtain  and  showed  his  glory,  or  (shall  we  not  say  ?) 
a  part  of  his  glory,  to  one  or  two  of  his  friends,  we  can 
perceive  why  it  is  that  meanwhile  He  remains  out  of 
view.  Stephen  could  look  on  Him  only  in  death,  and 
had  his  soul  absorbed  by  the  vision  ;  Paul  knew  not 
whether  he  was  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,  and 
John  fell  at  his  feet  as  dead.  When  men  are  brought 
to  see  Him  as  He  is,  the  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory  would  crush  them  to  the  dust,  without 
that  change  which  will  make  their  bodies  incorruptible 
and  glorious  as  his  own. 

With  this  change  on  the  body,  there  must  be  a 
corresponding   one  upon  the   soul,  before   there   can 


436  THE   ETERNAL    FUTURE 

be  the  full  vision  of  Christ.  If  we  were  allowed  to 
conjecture,  we  might  suppose  that  this  education  is 
part  of  the  history  of  souls  in  the  separate  state.  The 
body  can  rise  at  once  to  its  highest  perfection,  but  the 
law  of  spirit  is  that  of  advance  by  slow  degrees.  Freed 
from  sin  at  its  first  entrance  into  Christ's  presence, 
it  may  be  gradually  growing  under  his  instruction,  in 
the  knowledge  and  experience  which  shall  qualify  it 
for  union  with  the  glorified  body,  and  for  those  scenes 
of  surpassing  splendor  and  awe  which  await  it  in 
the  resurrection-world.  There  may  be  a  training  going 
forward  which  shall  make  the  great  day  of  the  Lord 
only  the  natural  close  in  a  long  advance.  If  we  think 
of  such  movements  now  within  the  vail,  it  may  help  us 
to  account  for  what  we  reckon  premature  departure 
from  this  life.  There  is  another  world,  of  vaster 
thoughts  and  activities,  which  is  making  ready  for  the 
final  coming  of  Christ.  There  are  employments  in  that 
world  for  those  whom  we  deplore.  It  is  consolatory, 
also,  to  think  that  the  great  day  shall  not  startle  the 
blessed  dead,  if  we  may  so  speak  of  them,  with  affright. 
It  shall  dawn  to  them  as  the  summer  sun  dawns.  But 
however  the  preparation  takes  place,  we  may  be  confi- 
dent that  the  soul's  vision  will  be  at  last  perfectly 
fitted  to  its  object  —  "  Christ  as  He  is." 

It  will  be  a  vision  free  from  all  sin  in  the  soul. 
This  will  make  it  free  from  error,  and  from  the  doubt 
which  has  pain  with  it.  It  will  be  free  from  partiality 
—  from  that  fruitful  source  of  misconception  and  divi- 
sion, taking  a  portion  of  Christ  and  his  truth  for  the 
whole.  It  will  be  a  vision  intense  and  vivid,  not  coldly 
outlined  by  the  understanding,  but  veined  and  colored 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  437 

by  the  heart  —  a  sight  in  which  the  soul  goes  out  to 
rejoice  with  a  joy  that  is  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 
And  it  will  be  a  vision  close  and  intimate.  They  shall 
gain  their  knowledge  of  God  and  Christ  by  quicker 
processes  and  shorter  paths  than  here  we  do.  Our 
views  of  Christ  in  this  world  are  often  cold  and  unim- 
pressive, because  we  have  to  reason  them  out  and 
justify  them  to  our  judgment  before  we  can  take  the 
comfort  of  them  to  our  heart.  We  think  so  much  be- 
fore we  feel,  that  we  are  chilled  even  when  we  are  con- 
vinced. We  hold  Christ  questioning  at  the  door  till 
his  locks  are  wet  with  the  dews  of  the  night ;  and  when 
we  do  admit  Him,  we  scarcely  feel  warmth  from  his 
presence.  Yet  even  here,  there  are  times  when  his 
gospel  will  start  up  with  sudden  self-illumination, — 
when  his  Divine  life  makes  itself  so  felt  within  that  it 
gives  the  key  to  many  a  mystery,  overpowers  many  a 
doubt,  and  makes  us  know  something  of  the  meaning 
of  the  eagle-eyed  evangelist, — "In  Him  is  life,  and 
the  life  is  the  light  of  men."  These  occasions,  rare 
and  brief,  are  premonitions  of  the  opening  of  an  inward 
eye  which  shall  see  truth  more  closely,  when  faith  shall 
pass  over  into  sight,  and  reason  deepen  into  insight. 
It  is  not  that  we  shall  receive  all  truth  by  intuition,  or 
by  ecstatic  vision,  as  some  suppose,  for  if  reason  be  a 
true  part  of  our  nature,  it  must  have  endless  room  for 
exercise.  But  close  and  instant  vision  of  the  truth  — 
the  eyesight  of  the  spirit  —  shall  belong  more  to  our 
nature  than  it  does  here,  and  it  will  prevail  above  all 
when  we  look  on  Christ.  The  divine  realities  which 
lie  behind  the  material  face  of  things,  and  of  which  we 
have  now  only  glimmerings,  shall  be  seen  steadfastly 


438  THE   ETERNAL   FUTURE 

and  perfectly  when  we  see  the  Divine  in  Him.  How 
clear  and  close  the  vision  must  be  when  his  promise  is 
fulfilled,  —  "  In  that  day  ye  shall  know  that  I  am  in 
the  Father,  and  ye  in  Me,  and  I  in  you.  I  in  them, 
and  Thou  in  Me,  that  they  may  be  made  perfect  in 
one." 

III.  The  third  thing  promised  is,  complete  assimi- 
lation to  Christ  :  "  We  shall  be  like  Him." 

The  way  in  which  it  is  to  be  accomplished  is  told  us, 
—  "for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  It  is  the  perfect 
view  of  Christ  which  gives  perfect  likeness  to  Him. 
To  look  on  one  we  love  brings  a  measure  of  similitude, 
and  looking  on  Christ,  even  here,  however  dimly  we 
may  see  Him,  produces  a  degree  of  likeness.  "  Every 
man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,  purifieth  himself,  even 
as  He  is  pure."  It  advances  in  the  world  of  spirits, 
in  the  growth  of  knowledge  and  love.  But  it  is  when 
Christ  appears  that  the  last  great  step  is  taken.  How- 
ever pure  and  happy  may  be  the  state  of  separate  spir- 
its, the  Scripture  teaches  us  that  it  is  incomplete,  and 
that  they,  as  well  as  the  whole  creation,  "  wait  for  the 
manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God."  When  Christ  ap- 
pears in  his  complete  nature,  He  becomes  the  model 
to  whom  they  are  conformed,  body  as  well  as  soul.  It 
is  by  letting  our  thoughts  dwell  on  this  that  the  future 
of  our  eternal  history  becomes  less  obscure  to  us. 

Taking  the  order  we  have  hitherto  observed,  we  may 
think  first  of  our  material  frame.  It  will  be  made  like 
to  Christ's  glorious  body.  This  assures  us  that  we 
shall  have  eternal  relations  to  God's  material  universe. 
It  fixes  a  central  home  for  our  nature  —  we  shall  be 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  439 

where  Christ  is.  It  makes  us  feel  that  there  will  be  a 
fitness  in  our  frame  for  our  future  dwelling-place.  All 
that  world  forms  itself  into  a  harmony  with  Christ,  and 
when  we  are  like  Him  we  shall  be  in  harmony  with  it. 
It  is  not  merely  that  Christ  arranges  for  this  by  his 
omnipotent  power  put  forth  on  us,  but  by  a  Divine  life 
working  in  us.  There  is  a  view  of  the  resurrection- 
world  which  sees  it  all  as  fashioned  from  without,  as 
called  into  shape  by  Christ's  voice,  —  even  as  a  new 
world  is  called  into  being  by  the  voice  and  look  of 
spring  summoning  the  dead  seeds  into  life  through  its 
breezes  and  its  sunshine.  This  is  a  true  view,  but 
there  is  still  another  way  of  looking  at  the  resurrec- 
tion-world—  as  taking  its  shape  from  within,  from  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  rising  up  through  it,  —  even  as  there 
is  a  consentaneous  wakening  of  the  dead  seed  to  meet 
the  voice  of  spring  heard  overhead.  There  is  a  voice 
from  beneath  to  respond  to  the  voice  above  —  "Thou 
shalt  call  and  I  will  answer."  It  is  the  great  law  of 
God's  world  that  where  there  is  life  there  will  in  due 
time  be  a  full  and  a  fitting  form  for  it,  and  when  Christ 
has  breathed  into  a  soul  his  own  divine  life,  it  cannot 
rest  until  it  has  gained  its  perfect  shape.  It  is  to  this 
that  such  a  passage  seems  to  point,  "  But  if  the  Spirit 
of  Him  that  raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  in 
you,  He  that  raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead  shall  also 
quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his  Spirit  that  dwelleth 
in  you  "  (Rom.  viii.  11). 

In  this  world  already  we  can  see  a  dim  foreshadow- 
ing of  it.  Man's  material  frame  is  adapted  to  his  in- 
ward nature.  His  upward  look  and  speaking  eye  are 
the  outlet  of  his  soul.     As  the  soul  grows  nobler  it 


440  THE   ETERNAL   FUTURE 

lets  itself  be  seen  more  distinctly,  even  through  features 
that  have  sprung  from  the  dust  of  the  ground.  It  thins 
and  makes  transparent  evermore  its  walls  of  clay. 
There  is  a  struggle  of  the  inner  life  to  assimilate  the 
outer  form  to  itself,  which  is  prophetic  of  something 
coming.  Above  all,  spiritual  life  will  have  its  shape 
befitting  it.  Stephen's  face,  "  like  an  angel's,"  was 
the  natural  blossom  of  his  soul's  life  coming  out  in 
him  before  the  common  spring-time.  He  saw  Christ 
sooner  —  that  was  all  —  and  though  death  nipped  the 
bloom  for  the  moment,  it  shows  us  what  shall  be.  The 
seeds  of  the  earth  struggle  up  every  year,  and  represent 
in  form  and  color  the  separate  thoughts  of  divine  beauty 
and  kindness  with  which  they  are  charged,  and  there 
is  such  a  time  coming  for  higher  and  more  divine 
germs.  Every  soul  shall  take  its  own  special  image 
according  to  the  grace  that  is  in  it.  And  yet,  varied 
as  they  are,  they  shall  have  a  common  likeness,  for 
they  shall  all  be  conformed  to  the  one  great  Exemplar 
and  Model,  as  the  flowers  that  look  up  to  the  sun 
round  themselves  into  the  image  of  his  orb,  while  each 
one  borrows  out  of  his  beams  some  distinguishing 
hue  of  its  own. 

When  the  material  frame  is  made  like  Christ's  it  in- 
dicates to  us  something  not  only  of  the  forms  of  the 
future  life,  but' of  its  active  employments.  The  body 
in  this  present  world  serves  two  great  purposes.  It 
lets  in  God's  external  creation,  with  all  its  lessons  of 
knowledge,  upon  the  soul  ;  and  it  gives  the  soul  power 
to  go  forth  and  imprint  upon  God's  creation  its  own 
thoughts  and  volitions.  When  the  Bible  assures  us 
that  a  body  shall  still  be  associated  with  man's  soul,  it 


CLEAR    ONLY    IN    CHRIST.  441 

leads  us  to  infer  that  God's  material  universe  will  be 
open  to  him  in  all  its  teachings ;  and  that  he  will  be 
able  to  impress  it  in  some  way  with  the  marks  of  his 
own  mind  and  will.  Only  it  will  be  after  a  higher 
manner.  The  lordship  of  man  over  creation,  which 
was  granted  him  at  first,  will  be  heightened  when  it  is 
restored  through  Christ  (Heb.  ii.  7).  His  redeemed 
shall  be  employed  in  studying  God's  works  and  ways, 
and  in  carrying  out  God's  purposes  in  them.  Through 
Him  that  loved  them  they  shall  be  made  kings  and 
priests  unto  God,  even  his  Father  —  kings  and  priests, 
living  a  life  of  royal  dominion,  that  shall  be  one  also 
of  pure  and  blessed  service,  where  power  shall  seek 
only  the  fulfilment  of  God's  will  and  the  welfare  of  his 
universe. 

Besides  the  assimilation  of  the  material  frame,  we 
cannot  forget  that  there  will  be  a  likeness  of  the  spirit- 
ual  nature.  This  thought  has  been  underlying  all  that 
we  have  said.  The  source  of  heaven's  blessedness  and 
power  is  the  likeness  of  the  soul  to  Christ.  He  is  the 
image  of  the  unseen  Father,  who  has  taken  the  copy 
from  the  Divine  side,  and  transferred  it  to  the  human 
for  our  example.  He  has  removed  by  his  life  and 
death  all  the  guilt  which  barred  our  way  to  God,  and 
He  has  secured  all  the  Spirit's  power  to  make  that  im- 
age ours.  Slowly  we  are  drawn  to  his  image  here  by 
the  cords  of  love,  as  they  strengthen  their  hold  on  us ; 
but  the  image  at  best  remains  incomplete  and  dim. 
When  He  shall  appear  "  we  shall  see  his  face,  and  his 
name  shall  be  on  our  foreheads."  It  shall  be  deeper 
—  in  our  souls  ;  and  all  of  God's  truth  and  grace  that 
can  be  communicated  to  a  creature  shall  enter  into  the 


442  THE    ETERNAL    FUTURE 

depth  of  the  spiritual  nature  through  Christ.  If  the 
active  soul  finds  scope  for  work  in  God's  material  uni- 
verse, the  Mary-like  spirit  which  delights  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  Christ  and  hear  his  word,  shall  have  unrebuked 
leisure  in  the  heavenly  home.  We  may  trust  that  in 
some  way  the  sisters,  Service  and  Meditation,  will  inter- 
change gifts,  and  be  perfectly  at  one  when  they  reach 
his  higher  presence. 

Access  to  the  person  of  Christ  shall  then  give  the 
most  direct  access  to  God  Himself.  Christ's  heart 
shall  be  in  the  world  of  the  soul  what  his  glorified 
nature  is  in  the  material  creation — a  resting-place  for 
thought,  —  a  central  home  where  we  touch  and  em- 
brace the  personality  of  Him  who  is  infinite.  It  is  the 
hold  of  Christ  now  by  faith  that  is  to  save  man  from 
that  terrible  spectre  which  broods  over  some,  an  infi- 
nite force  without  an  infinite  Father  ;  and  it  is  in  the 
presence  of  Christ  that  throughout  eternity  God's  fa- 
therhood will  be  seen  and  felt  as  in  its  inmost  shrine. 
The  soul  will  feel  here  that  God  is,  and  is  its  own,  and 
rise  evermore  to  understand  a  higher  sense  in  the 
words,  "  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ." 
In  this  progress  into  a  fuller  knowledge  and  possession 
of  God,  Christ  shall  be  the  guide.  They  have  set  the 
Lord  ever  before  them,  and  they  shall  follow  Him 
whithersoever  He  goeth.  He  came  from  the  infinite 
into  the  finite,  not  only  that  He  might  save  his  lost 
heritage,  but  that  He  might  conduct  God's  children  up 
through  the  finite  into  the  infinite  for  ever.  He  is  the 
"first-born  of  every  creature"  (Col.  i.  15),  —  the 
"Prince  of  the  whole  creation," — who  has  placed 
Himself  at  its  head,  and  is  leading  it  up  to  God,  in 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  443 

whom  alone  it  can  find  its  end  and  its  joy.  Yet  let  us 
never  forget  the  view  of  Him  which  belongs  to  our 
world,  and  which  must  send  its  strengthening  and 
reviving  look  through  all  the  holy  universe  of  God. 
He  leads  up  God's  creation  with  the  voice  of  mercy  on 
his  lips,  with  the  memory  of  suffering  in  his  heart ;  and 
the  front  ranks  of  his  innumerable  army  raise  their 
song,  "  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  be  glory  for  ever."  We 
thank  God,  even  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  it  is  his  purpose  that  his  restored  and  unfallen 
children  should  not  only  rise  into  the  brighter  light  of 
his  face,  but  enter  into  the  deeper  love  of  his  heart. 
Grace  no  less  than  truth  comes  to  us  through  Jesus 
Christ.  The  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall 
lead  them  not  only  to  the  "  great  and  high  mountain" 
whence  the  glory  of  God  can  be  discerned,  but  to  "  the 
fountains  of  living  waters,"  —  to  the  everlasting  springs 
in  the  valleys  which  run  among  the  hills.  Here  is  the 
heart  of  his  revelation  for  us.  Let  our  heart  repose  on 
it.  As  our  view  of  God  and  his  universe  widens,  this 
shall  grow  with  it  to  dissipate  every  doubt  and  soothe 
every  fear.  Here  we  see  but  a  little  bay  of  the  great 
ocean,  and  tremble  when  the  throb  of  its  tide  strikes 
our  shore ;  but  when  we  are  on  its  full  bosom  we  shall 
be  upborne  by  it,  nay,  rather,  be  upborne  by  Christ 
himself,  and  possess  in  Him  "  the  perfect  love  which 
casts  out  fear."  It  is  the  glorious  Loud  who  will  be 
unto  us  a  "  place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams  ;  "  and, 
with  the  infinite  u  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  his  wis- 
dom and  knowledge,"  we  shall  feel  that  "  neither  height 
nor  depth  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 


444  THE   ETERNAL   FUTURE 

Augustine  concludes  an  address  to  God  in  these 
words,  —  "  And  what  can  any  one  say  when  he  speaks 
of  Thee  ?  Yet  woe  to  those  who  are  silent,  since  even 
the  most  eloquent  are  dumb."  The  words  are  not  less 
fitted  to  express  our  feeling  when  we  think  of  that  eter- 
nity which  has  been  called  the  lifetime  of  God,  and 
which,  when  shared  with  us,  becomes  our  immortality. 
Every  single  mind  can  but  throw  out  its  own  ray, 
which  is  so  poor  a  guide  for  others,  since  it  is  felt  to  be 
so  scanty  for  ourselves.  And  scanty  as  it  is,  it  is  also 
so  shifting,  —  varying  as  the  atmosphere  of  the  soul 
changes,  and  as  the  angle  alters  from  which  we  take 
our  little  view.  Yet  here  we  feel  that  we  stand  in  the 
true  centre,  —  striving  to  look  at  it  through  Christ 
It  is  Christ  the  human  and  Divine  who  is  to  lead  man's 
soul  to  God,  —  and  man's  thoughts  out  of  time  into 
eternity.  The  true  knowledge  of  Him  now  contains 
the  germ  of  all  we  need  to  satisfy  our  nature.  It 
requires  no  change  save  expansion  and  perfection  to 
fit  it  for  the  eternal  life. 

We  have  pursued  the  order  of  presenting  first  the 
human  side  of  Christ,  and  then  the  Divine ;  but  we 
trust  it  has  been  made  clear  that  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  comes  to  us  through  the  soul-side  in  ourselves. 
We  must  begin  by  knowing  Him  spiritually  as  the 
source  of  pardon  and  purity,  —  commencing  a  new  life 
within,  which  goes  forward,  strengthening  and  rising, 
—  a  life  of  which  heaven  is  not  the  reward,  but  the  nat- 
ural and  necessary  continuation.  We  cannot  close  so 
great  a  subject  without  seeking  to  point  out  briefly  why 
God  lias  chosen  such  a  way  for  leading  us  on  to  a  future 
world. 


CLEAR    ONLY   IN    CHRIST.  445 

First  of  all,  God  has  used  it  as  a  means  of  spiritual 
test  and  training.  When  man  constructs  a  religion  for 
himself,  the  material  side  of  the  future  is  made  the 
prominent  or  the  exclusive  one.  In  the  Divine  reli- 
gion, the  material  side  is  not  overlooked  —  for  it  also  is 
true,  —  but  it  is  made  the  fitting  attendant  and  shadow 
of  the  spiritual,  as  the  outward  creation  is  the  shadow 
of  God  himself.  Every  thing  about  our  future  lies  in 
having  our  soul  right.  The  gospel  bears  on  it  the 
mark  and  sign-manual  of  the  Father  of  spirits. 

There  is  a  test  here  which  tries  every  man,  whether 
he  will  seek  God  for  what  He  is,  and  not  merely  for 
what  He  can  give.  God  gives  to  the  body,  —  He  is  to 
the  soul.  He  will  not  bribe  us  back  to  allegiance  by 
the  promise  of  material  benefits.  This  would  be  un- 
worthy of  Him,  and  hurtful  to  us,  for  it  would  only 
strengthen  that  love  of  self  which  is  the  root  of  all  sin. 
That  soul  finds  heaven  which  seeks  God  in  it  —  to  which 
it  would  be  no  heaven  if  God  were  absent,  —  which 
would  search  its  many  mansions  as  Mary  sought 
Christ's  grave,  and  when  it  found  not  Him,  would 
stand  without  the  door  weeping, —  "  They  have  taken 
away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid 
Him."     "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  " 

The  training  for  this  is  gradual,  and  can  only  come 
through  spiritual  means.  Do  not  be  discouraged  if 
you  have  not  the  full  feeling  of  it,  but  seek  to  have  the 
conviction  that  it  is  right  you  should  have  it,  and 
struggle  evermore  to  rise  to  it.  There  is  a  balance  of 
forces  in  the  works  of  God.  Man's  body  is  attached  to 
this  earth  by  the  power  of  gravitation,  in  such  a  way 
that  he  can  walk  securely  on  the  surface  and  yet  look 


446  THE    ETERNAL   FUTURE 

upward.  He  is  not  dragged  to  the  ground  by  its  dead 
power,  nor  is  he  ready  to  be  driven  from  it  by  every 
gust  of  wind.  God  has  similarly  proportioned  the 
forces  of  the  world  to  come.  They  are  not  so  strong 
as  to  detach  us  from  this  world  and  its  duties,  and 
yet,  if  we  are  open  to  their  influences,  they  are  strong 
enough  to  prevent  us  cleaving  to  the  dust.  Here,  too, 
we  may  walk  the  world's  surface  while  we  have  heaven 
in  view.  There  is  this  difference  only,  that  into  our 
spiritual  position  our  own  choice  enters ;  and  as  our 
choice  strengthens,  our  upward  look  is  more  decided, 
and  the  higher  world  becomes  more  and  more  the  one 
to  which  we  feel  we  finally  belong. 

In  this  way  we  become  certain  that  there  is  a  heaven, 
and  that  we  are  on  the  road  to  it.  The  grand  method 
for  being  sure  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  to  be 
sure  that  we  have  a  soul,  and  this  assurance  is  gained 
by  having  a  share  of  God's  life  in  it.  It  is  no  wonder 
that  some  doubt  the  soul's  immortality  when  they  make 
so  little  of  their  soul,  and  neglect  its  true  life,  till  not 
a  pulse-stroke  of  it  can  be  felt.  Let  us  not  be  tor- 
mented so  much  seeking  proofs  and  repelling  objec- 
tions outside  of  us.  Men  need  not  say  —  "  Lo  here, 
or  lo  there !  for  behold  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within 
you."  All  arguments  will  never  prove  the  future  life 
to  a  man  in  whom  its  hidden  life  is  not  stirring  already ; 
but  let  a  man  have  this,  and  his  soul  may  come  to  such 
a  state  that  he  shall  feel  there  can  be  no  place  for  it 
but  the  bosom  of  God,  and  that  he  is  as  sure  of  reach- 
ing heaven  as  if  he  were  already  within  the  gate. 

The  next  thing  in  this  way  of  revealing  the  future  is, 
that  it  is  a  means  of  quieting  our  thoughts.     There  are 


CLEAR   ONLY   IN   CHRIST.  447 

some  minds  which  trouble  themselves  with  the  fear 
lest  their  present  life  and  its  natural  affections  should 
be  irrecoverably  lost  in  the  future  world.  The  place 
and  circumstances  seem  so  indefinite,  and  must  be  so 
different  from  the  present,  that  they  are  tossed  in  un- 
certainty. Shall  they  meet  their  friends  again  so  as 
to  know  them,  or  shall  they  not  be  separated  from 
them  by  the  vast  expanses  of  that  world,  and  by  the 
varied  courses  they  may  have  to  pursue  ?  We  may 
have  our  thoughts  about  these  things  tranquillized,  if 
we  bring  them  into  connection  with  Christ.  Our 
eternal  life  begins  in  union  with  Him,  and  it  must  for 
ever  so  continue.  If  we  are  gathered  round  Him 
in  heaven,  and  know  Him,  and  are  known  of  Him, 
this  will  insure  acquaintance  with  one  another.  It  is 
strange  that  it  could  ever  be  made  matter  of  doubt. 
And  when  we  think  that  He  gave  us  human  hearts 
and  took  one  into  his  own  breast,  —  that  He  bestowed 
on  us  human  homes  and  affections,  and  solaced  Him- 
self with  them,  —  we  need  not  fear  that  He  will  deny 
us  our  heart's  wish,  where  it  is  natural  and  good. 
Variety  of  pursuit  and  temperament  need  no  more 
separate  us  there  than  it  does  here,  and  his  own  name 
for  heaven,  —  the  Father's  house  of  many  mansions, — 
speaks  of  unity  as  well  as  diversity,  of  one  home,  one 
roof,  one  paternal  presence. 

There  are  others  to  whom  the  thought  of  infinite 
progress  in  an  eternal  life  becomes  an  almost  over- 
powering burden.  Though  fired  by  the  conception, 
they  feel  giddy  when  they  think  of  the  heights  to 
which  the  soul  may  climb.  The  far-off  goal  stretches 
for  ever  on,  and  our  present  position  disappears  in  an 


448  THE   ETERNAL   FUTURE 

endless  advance.  It  is  then  that  the  thought  of  Christ 
may  enter  to  give  ns  repose,  in  eternity  as  now.  The 
farthest  progress  can  never  take  us  from  his  presence, 
nor  weaken  the  sense  of  his  sympathy.  When  the 
soul  is  wearied  with  thought,  it  is  in  sympathy  that 
it  finds  rest.  There  are  times  when  this  is  the  yearn- 
ing cry  of  our  nature,  —  rest,  only  rest,  —  and  as  John 
on  his  Master's  bosom,  so  every  one  shall  find  repose 
of  spirit  there,  the  mystery  being  that  it  shall  be  for 
every  one,  as  God  even  now  is  an  entire  God  to  us  all. 
This  presence  of  Christ  through  all  the  expanse  of  the 
future  will  be  like  the  ark  of  the  covenant  which 
accompanied  God's  people  through  the  wilderness, 
and  made  it  everywhere  a  safe  and  pleasant  home.  Pos- 
sessed of  this  companionship,  the  centre  of  the  soul's 
repose  will  be  perpetually  near.  "  And  He  said,  My 
presence  shall  go  with  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  rest. 
And  he  said  unto  Him,  If  thy  presence  go  not  with  me, 
carry  me  not  up  hence"  (Exod.  xxxiii.  14). 

The  last  thing  in  this  revelation  of  the  future  is, 
that  it  makes  Christ  the  centre  of  the  souVs  affections  and 
aims.  Darkness  is  left  brooding,  or  shadows  sent  flit- 
ting over  the  great  eternity,  that  Christ  may  stand 
forth  in  the  centre  distinct  and  clear.  God's  heaven 
is  made  to  grow  out  of  Christ,  that  Christians  may  not 
have  a  single  thought  about  it  in  which  He  is  not 
present.  And  it  is  presented  thus,  not  only  to  Chris- 
tians, but  to  all  men,  that  when  they  are  drawn  or 
compelled  to  think  of  the  future,  Christ  may  rise  to 
view  with  his  words,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth, 
and  the  life  ;  no  man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by 
me,"  and  "  Him  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise 


CLEAR    ONLY    IN    CHRIST.  449 

cast  out."  It  is  to  assure  them  that  the  gate  of 
heaven  is  as  wide  as  the  outspread  arms  of  Christ  upon 
his  cross,  which  are  his  welcome  to  a  whole  guilty 
world.  Its  unbarred  and  unlimited  door  is  yearning 
for  the  wandering  and  lost,  as  his  heart  did  when  He 
wept  over  them,  and  sorrowfully  reproached  their  own 
impenitent  will  as  the  only  obstacle,  "  Ye  will  not 
come  unto  me  that  ye  might  have  life." 

There  must  come  times  when  men  think  of  these 
things.  The  common  eddies  of  life  may  wheel  round 
their  own  trifles,  but  the  deep  currents  of  the  soul  all 
bear  it  to  its  deepest  interests  —  to  death  and  judg- 
ment, to  God  and  life  eternal.  And  when  the  powers 
of  the  world  come  to  lay  their  arrest  on  a  man,  when 
time  dwindles,  when  the  soul  whispers  clear  of  its 
nature  and  destiny,  when  eternity  opens  in  its  awful 
proportions,  it  is  God's  purpose  that  there  should 
be  no  place  left  for  a  man  to  flee  to  but  Christ.  He 
darkens  all  the  sky  save  where  He  appears,  —  spreads 
a  vast  trackless  void  around,  and  leaves  the  soul  with 
Christ  alone.  "Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

And  when  at  last  a  man  is  forced  to  quit  his  hold  of 
all  the  known,  and  venture  forth  into  that  void,  who 
can  give  the  soul  a  footing  in  the  empty  place,  and 
bring  it  safe  to  the  shore  of  a  new  world?  There  is 
but  One.  The  ship  is  tossed  until  the  morning  watch, 
but  there  can  be  no  calm  around,  nor  peace  within, 
till  He  appear.  God  has  willed  that  morning  should 
break  only  at  His  coming,  and  calm  fall  in  the  track 
of  his  footsteps.  He  who  "  made  the  seven  stars  i.id 
Orion,  who  treadeth  the  waves  of  the  sea"  — who  has 

29 


450  THE  ETERNAL  FUTURE  CLEAR  ONLY  IN  CHRIST, 

his  throne  in  the  upper  calm,  and  his  feet  on  the  lower 
storms,  —  is  still  walking  the  waters  of  death  for  the 
help  of  them  who  love  his  appearing.  However  dark 
the  skj,  let  us  sweep  it  with  earnest  gaze  till  He  is 
seen.  Nor  shall  we  search  in  vain.  The  sky  is  ob- 
scured that  He  may  come  out  in  saving  and  more 
bright  relief. 

The  waters  may  rise  even  to  the  soul,  the  gloom  of 
death-shade  gather  over  it,  and  the  heart  may  so  fail  as 
to  cry  out  for  fear  in  presence  of  the  Deliverer.  But 
the  ear  that  has  learned  to  recognize  his  voice  will 
hear  the  words  of  the  Son  of  Man,  "It  is  I,  be  not 
afraid,"  —  words  that  assure  us  of  a  kindred  nature, 
and  a  gracious  purpose.  Then  shall  we  receive  Him 
gladly,  and  be  immediately  at  that  land  whither  we 
are  going, — "We  shall  behold  his  face  in  righteous- 
ness, and  shall  be  satisfied  when  we  awake  with  his 
likeness." 


■=« 


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k « J 


*- 


DR.  Mc COSH'S    LECTURES. 


Christianity   and    Positivism. 

A   SERIES    OF    LECTURES    TO    THE    TIMES    ON    NATURAL 
THEOLOGY      AND      APOLOGETICS. 

Delivered  in  New  York  Jan-  16  to  March  20,  1871,  on  the  "  Ely  Foundation" 
of  the   Union    Theological  Seminary. 

By   JAMES    McCOSH,    D.D.,    LL.D., 

PRESIDENT   CF   THE    COLLEGE    OF    PRINCETON,    N.    J. 

i2mo.     $1.75. 
***  Sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


From  the  New-York  Observer. 
We  briefly  mentioned,  last  week,  the  conclusion  of  the  important  course  of  lectures 
delivered  in  this  city  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  McCosh,  President  of  Princeton  College.  It 
was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  a  discussion  of  the  most  abstruse  subjects,  by  whom- 
soever conducted,  could  be  continued  through  ten  successive  evenings  without  losing 
its  hold  upon  the  attention  of  a  popular  audience.  But  we  have  seen  the  old  and 
the  young,  the  learned  and  the  unlearned,  returning  week  after  week  to  be  fascinated 
by  pure  argument,  and  to  regret  the  termination  of  their  hour  of  metaphysics  as  they 
would  the  interruption  of  a  thrilling  tale.  Dr.  McCosh,  by  his  lucid  statements  and 
aptness  of  illustration,  has  proved  that  the  science  of  metaphysics  is  simply  common 
sense  applied  to  matters  of  the  soul.  The  difficulty  of  making  the  application  to 
matters  so  subtle,  he,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  that  employment,  understands  far  bet- 
ter than  most  men.  But  when  the  application  is  made,  with  whatever  precedent 
labor,  and  the  results  come  forth  simple  and  beautiful,  even  the  least  disciplined  mind 
can  estimate  and  enjoy  what  it  could  not  irself  produce. 

Dr.  McCosh  has  occupied  many  positions  of  honor,  but  he  never  stood  in  an  atti- 
tude more  honorable  or  more  responsible  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man  than  that 
which  he  now  occupies,  as  the  disciplined  and  acute  defender  of  the  gospel  against  its 
disciplined  assailants. 

The  printing  of  these  lectures,  which  is  provided  for  by  the  foundation  on  which 
they  have  been  delivered,  is  a  great  and  timely  public  benefaction. 

Their  courageous  tone  and  telling  arguments  ought  to  resound  from  all  our  pul- 
pits. Believers  and  unbelievers  ought  to  be  made  aware  that  Christianity  is  not 
afraid  to  meet  scientific  skepticism  on  its  own  ground  ;  to  take  all  its  facts  that  are 
facts,  and  by  their  very  help  to  resist  its  monstrous  assumptions.  Dr.  McCosh  lias 
shown  most  conclusively  that  science  is  assailing  religion,  not  by  its  quality  of  sci- 
ence, not  by  what  it  knows,  but  by  what  it  guesses  at.  He  is  helping  the  Church  to 
oppose  to  such  partisan  guesses  and  inferences  real  facts  and  solid  argument.  No 
better  service  could  be  done  to  religion  at  this  moment,  than  by  putting  his  book  in 
the  hands  of  every  religious  teacher  in  the  country. 


ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS. 

York. 

CO 


* 


* ■ 

Dr.   McCosh's  Other  Works. 


i. 

Logic.       ismo $1.50 

"  This  is  the  work  of  one  who  is  master  of  the  subject,  and  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  systems  of  those  who  have  preceded  him  in  this  department  of  science.  It 
is  a  condensed  but  exhaustive  exhibition  of  the  principles  of  the  science,  presented 
with  great  clearness,  freshness,  and  compactness,  and  is  admirably  adapted  to  the 
object  intended." — Evangelical  Quarterly. 

II. 

The  Method  of  the  Divine  Government, 

Physical  and  Moral.     8vo $2.50 

"  Dr.  McCosh's  work  is  of  the  compact  cast  and  thought-eliciting  complexion 
which  men  do  not  willingly  let  die."  —  Hugh  Miller. 

III. 

The  Intuitions  of  the  Mind. 

New  and  improved  edition.     8vo $3-oo 

"  I  value  it  for  its  large  acquaintance  with  English  Philosophy,  which  has  not  led 
him  to  neglect  the  great  German  works.  I  admire  the  moderation  and  clearness,  as 
well  as  comprehension,  of  the  author's  views."  —  Dr.  Domer,  Berlin. 

IV. 

Typical  Forms  and  Special  Ends  in  Creation. 

By  James  McCosh,  LL.D.,  and  Dr.  Dickie.     8vo   .  $2.50 

"  It  illustrates  and  carries  out  the  great  principle  of  analogy  in  the  Divine  plans 
and  works,  far  more  minutely  and  satisfactorily  than  it  has  been  done  before."  — 
A  rgits. 

V. 

A  Defence  of  Fundamental  Truth. 

Being  an  Examination  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill's  Philosophy. 

Svo $3-oo 

"  The  spirit  of  these  discussions  is  admirable.  Fearless  and  courteous,  McCosh 
never  hesitates  to  bestow  praise  when  merited,  nor  to  attack  a  heresy  wherever 
found."  —  Congregational  Review. 


A?iy  book  on  this  list  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt 

of  the  price. 

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